
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Chap..Mr Copyright No.. 

Shelf..-l'--5 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 







ONE 

YEAR 


BY 

DOROTHEA GERARD 

I 

AUTHOR OF 


“LADY BABY,” “A SPOTLESS REPUTATION,” etc. 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD fsf COMPANY 

MDCCCC 


TWO Copies 


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60034 


Copyright 1899 
by 

Dodd, Mead & Company 


SECOND COPY, 


4 


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INTRODUCTION 


The year I am going to write about is the only 
one worth writing about in the whole of my event- 
less career. There are such things as long, even 
stretches of road, broken only at one spot by the 
excitement of a raging torrent, or such things as 
still summer days, shaken at only one moment by the 
thrill of an isolated thunder-clap, — only to these 
things can I liken my peaceful and mildly dull life, 
cut, as it were, into two distinct halves by that one 
year into which was crowded all that I have ever 
known of violent emotions, of apprehension, and 
even of horror. And yet it is probable that but for 
Agnes Jeffrey that year would have remained un- 
chronicled and those sentiments unrecorded. It was 
but a few weeks ago, during the Whitsuntide holidays 
which, as usual, I was spending at Broadfield, that 
Agnes put into my hands a bundle of letters on 
which I recognised my own writing, and tied to- 
gether with a green ribbon which had scarcely be- 
gun to fade. 

“ You should make a story of that,” she said to 
me, taking her youngest child on her arm as she 
spoke. 


1 


2 


INTRODUCTION 


I untied the green ribbon, my eye catching the 
rosy flush of the Austrian stamps, and immediately 
the memories began to surge. Agnes, with her 
child on her arm, had left the room ; I was alone 
with the dead past. One page after another did I 
unfold, here skimming along, there spelling out, 
and presently let them all drop together on the 
table and gazed out on the softly rolling landscape 
with eyes that saw neither the blossoming hedge- 
rows nor the vividly green meadows, but rather the 
flat line of horizon, the straight roads, the wattled 
willow palings of a far-oflP land. In the pleasant 
vicarage garden the first crimson rose had opened 
over-night, but, although in spirit, too, I looked 
upon roses, they were roses of a different hue, and 
of a lower, more rustic, growth ; in place of the 
well-trimmed lawn it was waving patches of grass 
that I sawj instead of the irreproachable paths 
rough gravel richly matted with dandelion tufts. 
And through it all a face looked at me — dark-eyed, 
colourless, exquisite, and stabbed me to the heart 
with its phantom gaze. 

Oh, Jadwiga, beautiful Jadwiga, shall I ever be 
able to forget your eyes ? Shall I ever see their 
like again ? Assuredly neither one nor the other. 
Make a story of it? Was not that what Agnes 
had said ? No need of that, surely ; the story was 
there already, ready-made to my hand ; my letters 
told it, and what my letters left out my memory— 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


not more faded yet than that green ribbon — could 
supply. If ever I was to do it, now was the time. 
Sooner would have been too soon, for you have to 
step back from your model before you can get its 
right proportions ; later might be too late, by lay- 
ing a haze of oblivion over many even significant 
details. 

I may as well say at once that I am not the 
heroine of the romance I am about to recount. 
In order, once for all, to crush this idea in the 
reader's mind, the simplest course will be to give a 
truthful personal description. At the moment that 
I write this I am thirty-six years old, so even five 
years ago when the events to be recorded took 
place, I was out of the twenties. My hair is 
brown — not golden-brown, or ruddy-brown, or 
“ shadowy brown ” — but just simply a good honest, 
unexciting brown. My eyes which are grey can 
likewise lay no claim to any further adjective. 
My complexion I have heard described as 
“opaque," and I know that my nose is dumpy. 
Add to this somewhat broad cheek bones and a 
figure more remarkable for solidity than grace, and 
I think that even the most sanguine reader will not 
expect to find me figuring in any ultra-romantic 
situation. What Henry could ever see in me has 
always been a mystery to my humble comprehen- 
sion. Surely the eyes of all men are not made on 
the same plan, and very lucky it is for us the plain 


4 


INTRODUCTION 


women of the world. No, I am not the heroine, 
only a witness of that strange family drama of 
which my letters to Agnes Jeffrey give the outline. 
In order to explain how I came to be a witness, it 
is necessary for me to speak of my own affairs, 
which I will do as briefly as possible. 

Henry and I had known each other long before 
I had got into long skirts or he into the regulation 
manly garment. When we began to be fond of 
each other I can’t rightly say, because I don’t re- 
member any time when it was otherwise. I know 
that when he told me of his intention of never 
marrying any woman but myself I was scarcely 
surprised, nor even pretended to be so ; it seemed 
such an almost inevitable conclusion to our child- 
ish intimacy. Neither did it necessarily mean that 
he would marry me any more than the others, for 
we both possessed a fair portion of common sense 
which the sober, middle-class atmosphere in which 
we grew up had helped to develop. I was only 
sixteen and he only twenty, yet we had both al- 
ready found out that, although the little God of 
Love does make the world go round, he cannot 
always do the same for the spit, or that, at any 
rate, he often fails to stick something upon it. I 
don’t remember even feeling particularly aggrieved 
at this juncture ; merely to know that I stood first 
in Henry’s estimation was contentment enough for 


me. 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


We separated soon after this conversation — it 
could scarcely be called a declaration, since we had 
both known all about it long before — but we oc- 
casionally met, and frankly enjoyed our meetings. 
We were not engaged to be married, whatever our 
friends might pretend, only it had become an un- 
derstood thing that, unless we were able to afford 
to marry some day, we should both probably end 
our lives single. Sometimes we did not meet for 
months, for circumstances had forced me to take a 
situation as a governess, and to follow my employ- 
ers to various parts of England, while Henry, one 
in the herd of briefless barristers who look to each 
morrow for their chance, had chosen London for 
his headquarters. Years passed in this way, and 
employment did not come, and without it our 
chances of union naturally remained invisible. 
Neither of us had allowed our disappointment to 
spoil our lives — we felt that would have been poor 
spirited — but there is no denying that things did 
feel rather flat at times. We had got into a groove 
of somewhat blunted, somewhat dogged, patience, 
and it was beginning to look as though it were go- 
ing to go on exactly like this to the end when 
quite suddenly Agnes gave the matter another turn 
by writing me one of her flurried little notes. She 
is wonderfully easily flurried, especially when any- 
thing goes wrong with anybody she cares for, and 
she cares for a great many people and is horribly 


6 


INTRODUCTION 


anxious to see them all as happy as she is her dear 
little self. 

^‘Do for goodness’ sake take care,” she wrote 
to me on this occasion, “ or Henry will slip through 
your fingers, after all. A baby in arms could see 
that that Somerville girl is setting her cap at him 
in earnest ; and the worst of it is I do believe she 
cares for him.” 

The news undoubtedly alarmed me, but also it 
set me thinking, and not exactly in the direction 
that Agnes had foreseen. I knew that Lily Somer- 
ville was a considerable heiress, and also a bit of a 
beauty. For a briefless barrister there could be no 
doubt that she would be a brilliant catch. Henry 
might not care for her now, but might he not come 
to care for her in time, especially if she cared for 
him ? Not that for a moment I doubted his loy- 
alty. Although not bound by one word I knew 
that he would never marry another woman without, 
so to say, asking my consent. Would it not be 
better to give it before it was asked ? I had been 
thirty on my last birthday ; and was beginning to 
feel almost middle-aged, while for a man Henry 
was still distinctly young ; was it likely that he 
would be heartbroken at a release which would be 
certain to assure his career ? Was it right to go 
on standing in his way as I now suddenly became 
aware of having done for years past, barring his 
free passage, perhaps spoiling his best chances ? 


INTRODUCTION 


7 


He loved me still — I believed it, but if I were out 
of the way 

At that very time I was without a situation and 
looking out for another. On the day before I re- 
ceived Agnes’s letter I had had my name put down 
at a registry office. Two places had been sug- 
gested, one in an English nobleman’s family and 
under especially favourable conditions, the other in 
a Polish family living in East Galicia, but anxious 
to perfect their daughters in our language, which, 
as I was told, was beginning to be largely culti- 
vated among the Polish aristocracy, I had not hesi- 
tated for a moment in deciding for the English 
offer. To my insular notions East Galicia sounded 
about as far away as Japan, offering no tempta- 
tions to my unenterprising spirit. So it had been 
yesterday, but to-day an abrupt change had come 
over me. Half an hour after reading Agnes’s let- 
ter I was back at the office and inquiring whether 
there was still time to cancel the step taken yes- 
terday. There was still time, I was told, after 
which I asked whether the Polish situation was 
still open. Yes, it was; it was not so easy, it 
seemed, to entice a freeborn young Englishwoman 
to that semi-barbarous region known as East Gali- 
cia. On hearing that I was willing to open nego- 
tiations, the head of the registry office nearly em- 
braced me. She had evidently had a lot of bother 
over the business already and was overjoyed at the 


8 


INTRODUCTION 


prospect of a termination. I left the office with a 
strip of paper in my hand on which was written 
the address : — 

Madame Walentyna Bielinska, 

Ludniki, 

Post Zloczek. 

As I looked at the words a strange sense of 
finality came over me. I felt certain already that 
my path lay toward that unknown place called 
Ludniki, and I felt it with a mixture of pain and 
satisfaction. Once over there I should in truth 
have stepped out of Henry’s life, leaving him free 
to make his choice unencumbered by foolish 
scruples. It was not nearly so heroic as it sounds. 
The dream of my early girlhood had grown so 
faint by this time, so far off through constant re- 
ceding, besides being somewhat overlaid by the 
dust of this workaday world, that to give it up 
finally was not much worse than saying good-bye 
to a corpse. But saying good-bye even to a corpse 
does hurt a good deal at times, for which reason I 
will, with the reader’s permission, skip my sensa- 
tions of the next few days, for I repeat — it is not 
my story that I am about to tell, but that of quite 
another person, whose nature was very different 
from my own, and whose lovely face was never 
shone upon by an English sun. 


CHAPTER I 


Looking through my packet of letters I am glad 
to find the very first one I v^rote to Agnes from 
Ludniki, a week after my arrival there ; it will save 
me the trouble of recalling those early impressions. 

It was in October that for the first time I crossed 
the sea, and not under favourable auspices, for an 
icy north wind seemed inhospitably intent on blow- 
ing me away from British shores. The strange 
land I was going to appeared more kindly disposed 
toward me than my native country, for at Ostend 
the first ray of sunshine I had seen since quitting 
London greeted me, and the further eastward I 
travelled the more the autumn mists rolled back 
from the many tinted landscape. By the time I 
reached Galicia the transformation was perfect. A 
faintly blue, but spotless sky shone down on a 
brilliantly-painted world, a quite different world 
from the one I had known hitherto, but whose 
many startling features were softened by the glamour 
of that perfect season and that perfect sunshine. 
But my letter must speak for me, I give it here in 
full 

^‘Ludniki, October 8th, i88 — . 

“ Dearest Agnes, — So I have actually done it ! 
The sea is safely between me and my old life, my 
9 


10 


ONE YEAR 


hopes and imaginings, and I am glad it is so. So 
far as country, surroundings, people, habits go I 
might as well be on another planet from you all. 
Don’t expect my impressions to be very coherent 
yet; I am still too dizzy from my rush across 
Europe to be certain about anything. Above all, 
don’t ask me whether I find the country pretty ; 
upon my life I couldn’t tell you — anything would 
look pretty in this weather. I have an impression 
that the place might under other circumstances seem 
rather flat and rather bare, but nothing matters in 
this sunshine. We are on the beginning of the 
great Podolian plain, which stretches into Russia — 
miles of cornfields, reaped, of course, by this time, 
with villages buried in fruit-trees, dotted about 
more or less like islands. Except for these islands 
and an occasional gentleman’s park, the country is 
almost treeless ; the large forests which once cov- 
ered this tract of land have been cut down long 
ago to make room for the corn ; the soil is too 
good, it seems, to be left to trees alone. It may 
sound a little monotonous ; perhaps it is, but, as I 
tell you, I can’t fairly judge in this weather. The 
Ludniki park at any rate is not monotonous, could 
not be so in any weather; it is too full of surprises 
for that. There is also a flower garden and a 
kitchen garden as well as an orchard — so I am 
given to understand — but all so inextricably mixed 
up together that I have not yet succeeded in disen- 


ONE YEAR 


II 


tangling them. Imagine starting along what ap- 
pears to be a shrubbery and on turning a corner 
finding yourself close to a strip of onions, or else 
stumbling upon a hot-bed (with all the panes 
smashed) in the very midst of a rose plantation. 
Everything seems to be more or less represented in 
this bewildering miscellaneous park ; you can find 
there lawns which nobody ever mows and hedges 
which nobody ever clips, as well as wooden sum- 
merhouses where the honeysuckle is dragging the 
rotting pillars to the ground ; a swing which has 
not been used for so long that a fine, healthy fern 
has grown up in its hollow. There is a want of 
accuracy and method about the whole which would 
probably drive me mad if the place were mine, but 
which in no way seems to disturb the happy Polish 
insouciance. And, mind you, it isn’t either for want 
of money or want of hands that these things are 
so — of the former, so far as I can judge, there is 
plenty, and of the latter so many that even now 
at the end of a week I have not yet succeeded in 
taking a proper inventory of the domestics — but 
only because no one feels the need of its being 
otherwise. To nic nie s%kodxie is the first Polish 
phrase which I have learned, and of which the 
translation is : — ‘‘ It doesn’t matter.” According 
to them very little that we consider vital really 
matters. 

The house itself is a crossbreed between a 


12 


ONE YEAR 


palace and a cottage — ^grey, weather-beaten, roomy, 
with a pillar-supported verandah, which gives it a 
sort of sham Greek appearance — ornamented with 
some rather dilapidated stucco-work, but never 
rising beyond the ground-floor. The entrance is 
oddly placed toward one end of the long, low front, 
an irregularity which at first sight offended my 
highly symmetrical instincts. The reception-rooms 
are large and appeared to me at first sight so empty 
that I imagined a house cleaning must be going on, 
and that at least half the furniture was outside being 
dusted 5 but as a week has passed and no more has 
turned up I have come to the conclusion that this 
is the normal state of things. Perhaps it is a 
mercy, for when I consider the average quantity 
of sweepings left under each sofa and table now it 
is easy to calculate what it might grow to if the 
number of these convenient hiding-places were 
doubled. Now as to the people who live in this 
house — I have kept them to the last as being the 
most interesting — there are three of them to talk 
of, and all of my own sex, for it seems that I have 
come into a family of women exclusively. I got 
to see them one by one — but let me go back to the 
moment of my arrival. 

“ It took three hours and four horses to bring me 
here from the station, also a coachman in a dark 
green livery on which at least five of the silver- 
plated buttons were awanting. Their absence was 


ONE YEAR 


13 


quite unable to impair the air of consequence with 
which he flicked up his splendidly- stepping but 
wretchedly-groomed horses — to nic nie 5%kod%ie was 
what he probably said to himself, if he thought of 
the matter at all — but to me the missing buttons 
were a positive mercy. As I sat behind him in 
state the shyness with which the unwonted pomp 
of my position filled me was marvellously tempered 
by the contemplation of the empty space at the 
back of his broad waist, and of the dangling thread 
on which the pair to the one silver button bearing 
the Bielinski arms should by rights have sat. But 
for this I don’t know how I should have borne the 
overpowering respectfulness of the passers-by, for 
scarcely an urchin on all the way missed running 
out of his hut to bow — generally down to the 
ground — to the carriage and to me as its inmate ; 
my neck grew quite stiff through returning the sal- 
utations received ; and whenever we stopped to pay 
toll some one was sure to seize the opportunity of 
kissing my unwilling hand. I wish I had time to 
talk to you of the sheepskin-coated peasants — a 
sort of hairy monsters they seemed to me at first, 
and a very gentle sort of monster they proved on 
nearer view — and about their steep-roofed, straw- 
thatched huts, and the dark-brown wooden mina- 
rets that mark the village church — but I know you 
are impatient to hear of my employers, and so I 
hurry on. 


14 


ONE YEAR 


When, with a final splutter, we drew up on 
the badly-weeded gravel, the sun was not far from 
setting. A long, spare, grey-haired individual, 
likewise in dark-green livery, but with rather fewer 
missing buttons than the coachman, ran swiftly 
down the steps — to kiss my hand, of course ; noth- 
ing can be fairly started without that, it seems — 
after which, and having taken a keen, but discreet 
look at me, he preceded me, smiling, to the en- 
trance lobby, on to which several double-winged 
doors stood wide open. In one of them a small, 
dark, angular figure was standing. ‘You are Miss 
Middleton, are you not ? ’ said a painfully thin and 
yet perfectly assured voice in excellent French. I 
said I was, upon which she went on with bewilder- 
ing rapidity. ‘ Oh, then will you please come in 
here ? Mamma has asked me to take charge of 
you, and to see you have everything you want. 
She is rather worse than usual to-day, and 
Jadwiga doesn’t come back from Limberg till next 
week. I hope the journey hasn’t been too long 
for you ? Andrej, bring the samovar.’ While 
speaking she had ushered me into the room, a large, 
handsome, faded apartment, with a few good 
pictures on the walls and some valuable carpets on 
the floor, but without a book in it or a sign of oc- 
cupation beyond the music on the piano, and with 
holland covers over the chairs. On nearer view 
my small hostess disclosed herself as a sallow. 


ONE YEAR 


15 


dark-eyed, and almost weirdly thin little maiden, 
at whose age it was hard to form a guess. Her 
height did not indicate more than eight or nine, 
but the absolute assurance of her manner and the 
precocious expression of her peaky little face made 
her look almost adult. The small eyes were as 
bright and as black as those of a mouse, and the 
dry, yellow skin fell into two strangely elderly 
folds at each side of the thin mouth. Altogether 
she struck me as more quaint than attractive, and 
it was with a certain sinking of the heart that I 
inquired whether I was speaking to my future 
pupil. The little girl flushed with vexation at her 
own oversight. ‘ How stupid of me ! ’ she said, 
positively biting her lip with annoyance. ‘ Natu- 
rally I ought to have introduced myself. Of 
course, I am Anulka — Anulka Bielinska, mamma’s 
youngest daughter, you know, and Jadwiga’s sis- 
ter, and you are to be my governess. I do hope 
we shall get on together,’ she added kindly. Hav- 
ing echoed this hope I became lost in the contem- 
plation of her adroit movements, for the samovar 
had come in by this time, and Anulka had set about 
making tea with all the aplomb of a grown-up person. 

‘ I hope they have given you enough water,’ 
she remarked presently. ^ There was a gentleman 
here the other day who has once been in London, 
and he said the only way to make English people 
feel at home is to give them plenty of water. Will 


i6 


ONE YEAR 


one bath be enough, or shall I tell them to give 
you a second ? ’ I said that one vi^ould be quite 
sufficient; indeed at that moment, and after the 
long, dusty journey I should have been thankful 
for even a basin, but this idea did not seem to have 
occurred to anybody. I next asked my miniature 
entertainer how old she was. She said she was 
ten, ‘ of course.’ Everything touching herself or 
her family seems to Anulka so much a matter of 
course that it is difficult for her to realise the ig- 
norance of other people. By way of making con- 
versation, I went on to ask how old Jadwiga was. 
I was told that, ‘ of course,’ she had been nineteen 
on her last birthday. ‘ Then, I suppose, she takes 
no more lessons ? ’ I remarked. Not generally, 
Anulka said, but she was going to take English 
lessons from me. She sat staring into her tea-glass 
for a minute before she added : — ‘ But I don’t think 
it will be for long.’ ^ Why not ? ’ I naturally 
inquired. ‘ Because,’ said Anulka, with a gleam 
in her black eyes, ^ I think she will be married 
soon.’ I could think of nothing to say on the re- 
ception of this intelligence. Anulka went on 
talking in the calmest, most matter-of-fact tone. 
^ I do hope she will be, for unless she is married 
before I am grown up no one will ever look at me, 
because, you see, I am not pretty at all.’ 

‘ And Jadwiga is ? ’ I asked in growing amuse- 


ment. 


ONE YEAR 


17 


‘Just wait till you see ! ’ No words can give 
the conscious triumph of the glance which went 
along with the words. ‘ There are two gentlemen 
who want to marry her, only I don’t think she 
has made up her mind yet which of them she likes 
best.’ This seemed to me to be going rather fast 
for a first interview, and for fear of hearing more 
of the absent Jadwiga’s confidences disclosed, I 
hastily began talking of something else. But 
Anulka was not so easily turned from her subject. 
‘ They haven’t said yet that they want to marry 
her,’ she explained, ‘ but it is quite easy to guess. 
They would never drink so many glasses of tea, 
nor look at her so hard over the edge, and I am 
sure they would never be so polite to each other 
if they did not both want to marry her.’ I looked 
across with consternation at the child. The hor- 
rible acuteness of the remark sent a shiver of re- 
pulsion down my backbone. I had just made up 
my mind that I detested the sharp-eyed imp when 
quite suddenly a lightning-like change shot across 
her narrow face. ‘ Oh, there is Litawar,’ she 
shrieked in a genuine child’s voice, putting down 
the sugar-basin anyhow, and making a dart at a 
large, woolly, dirty-white puppy, who had just ap- 
peared in the open door. ‘ Are you fond of dogs ? 
You must know Litawar at once.’ In another 
moment she had gone down on her thin knees be- 
side the cur, the correct hostess attitude cast to the 


i8 


ONE YEAR 


winds, and forgetful of the running samovar, whose 
tap I was barely in time to turn off before the 
table was flooded. That was the first moment in 
which I felt that it might be possible to love my 
queer little pupil. There have been other moments 
since, but, on the whole, she is a baffling creature, 
more witch-like than quite human, rarely coming 
near to one, and always escaping one again. Much 
of her oddity is a result of ill-health, I imagine, 
for it seems that she has been sickly since her 
birth, and her family have kept her in cotton-wool, 
and made her wear respirators, and never given her 
anything but boiled water to drink, and in general 
employed all the usual means of making a delicate 
child more delicate still. 

I did not see Madame Bielinska until next day. 
Meanwhile I had slept gloriously on a large bed in 
a small room, which I can only reach by passing 
through another, at present unoccupied, bedroom, 
but which, I am told, is Jadwiga’s, and had had my 
choice of three different sorts of tubs in which to 
perform my ablutions. That gentleman who has 
once been in London must have spread a prodigious 
impression with regard to our national consumption 
of water, and the domestics of this establishment 
have evidently been severely drilled, for so brimful 
is my morning bath — I have succeeded in reducing 
it to one — as to demand extreme circumspection 
in the manner of stepping in and out of it. 


ONE YEAR 


19 


Madame Bielinska is not an old lady, but has, 
I understand, been a chronic invalid since her hus- 
band’s death, about eleven years ago. She seems 
to spend her life in a room from which both air 
and sunshine are carefully excluded. The heavily 
scented air seemed to grip me at the throat as I 
entered, and for a moment or two I could distin- 
guish nothing in the artificial darkness. At last I 
made out somebody sitting in a deep armchair, 
with a silk shawl over her shoulders and pale yel- 
low gloves on her hands. Those gloves fascinated 
my gaze in the first moment — they appeared so 
oddly superfluous in this atmosphere. She is a 
small, frail person, with an almost grotesquely 
long, bloodless face and a generally startled air. 
And just as the face is too large for the body, so 
the eyes are too large for the face ; and again, the 
sockets are too large for the eyes, which used 
probably to belong to the prominent order, but 
have come to sink so low that they now roll 
about, rather at random, in two hollow, purple- 
veined caverns. There is a scared look some- 
where in their depths, as of a person who has seen 
some dreadful sight, the terror of which has re- 
mained permanently fixed in his eyes. She did 
not seem to take much interest in my arrival, but 
spoke to me in a politely weary tone, explaining 
that it was by the wish of her daughter Jadwiga 
that she had gone to the trouble of procuring an 


20 


ONE YEAR 


English governess. Jadwiga was anxious to learn 
English, principally, it seems, in order to be able 
to read Byron in the original. I don’t know, by 
the bye, if this argues very promisingly for her lit- 
erary tastes. After ten minutes’ limp talk I was 
dismissed out of the dim and sickeningly scented 
little room. I fancy I shall not see very much of 
my real employer. To my mind she looks like a 
person who has gone through such heavy troubles 
that her one desire is for peace and seclusion. 

As for the eldest daughter, that Jadwiga whose 
name I had heard so often, it was only this morn- 
ing that I had my first glimpse of her. All this 
time she has been away at Limberg, not enjoying 
herself, however, or, at least, I suppose not, since 
as I understood from the chatter of Anulka — who 
all this time has very carefully looked after me — 
she has been spending most of her time in the 
dentist’s hands. This morning I was walking in 
the garden before breakfast, enjoying the pure, 
keen sunshine and feasting my eyes on the spider- 
webs all sparkling with dewdrops and stiffened 
with just the lightest touch of frost, when, on 
turning the corner of a path, I came full upon a 
brilliant but somewhat startling vision — a tall 
young girl, sauntering idly along, with her hat in 
her hand and a wreath of crimson and yellow 
leaves — such leaves as hung on every branch in 
the wide park — resting lightly on a rather untidy 


ONE YEAR 


21 


dark head. Fragments of the very gossamer webs 
which draped the bushes clung to the shining 
leaves, and the frosty dewdrops flashed like dia- 
monds in her hair. She had her loose travelling 
cloak about her still ; it hung in long, pale folds to 
her feet, and, in conjunction with that leafy wreath 
might very fairly represent the garb of some an- 
cient priestess on her way back from morning 
sacrifice. She looked white and tired, and her 
dark eyes were heavy. I fancy that under more 
favourable circumstances she must be beautiful, in 
part I am not sure that I did not find her beautiful 
even in that moment, and in spite of the faintly 
blue tinge under the eyes, which showed that she 
had not slept all night, but it was a rather too fan- 
tastical and unconventional sort of beauty to en- 
tirely suit my sober taste. At sight of me she 
brightened suddenly. ‘ At last ! ’ she said with a 
wonderfully radiant smile. ‘I have been waiting 
for you so long ! ’ I asked in some astonishment 
how this could be, not immediately realising who 
she was. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I got home very early, 
when you were all still asleep, and I knew that if 
I once lay down I should sleep till evening, for I 
have been travelling all night, but I was too curi- 
ous to see you. I am to be your pupil, too, you 
know — in English — and I am just dying to begin.’ 
‘ But surely not to-day ? ’ I objected, both pleased 
and amused with her eagerness. ‘ No,’ she said, 


22 


ONE YEAR 


‘ of course, not to-day ; to-day I only meant to 
look at your face, so as to make up my mind about 
you. I could not have slept quietly without that. 
You kept me waiting rather long; and I passed 
the time by making this wreath — do you think it 
very ridiculous ? ’ I said I found it very becoming, 
as was not to be denied, and asked her then 
whether she had yet made up her mind about me ? 
She looked at me very long and earnestly before 
she said : ^ I believe I have ; it sounds sudden, 
doesn’t it ? but I do most things suddenly. Oh, 
Miss Middleton, I wonder whether you will be my 
friend ? ’ As I am not able to do things as sud- 
denly as this, I could only say that I hoped I 
should, but the eager look in her beautiful eyes and 
the wonderful radiancy of her smile made me feel 
horribly prim and British as I expressed this meas- 
ured desire. ‘ I want a friend very badly,’ said 
Jadwiga, but she was already beginning to yawn; 
‘ we shall talk about that later ; good-bye in the 
meantime, and good-night,’ and with another 
sleepy smile she turned away. Having gone only 
a few steps she came back again abruptly. ‘ Is it 
— is it not very dreadful to be so far away from 
one’s country ? ’ she inquired, almost shyly, and 
looking at me with quite a new expression in her 
eyes. ‘ Sometimes it is better to be far away,’ I 
evasively replied. ^You must try not to be un- 
happy with us,’ she said earnestly. ‘ If I can help 


ONE YEAR 


23 


you to forget how far away you are, I shall do so,’ 
and then I felt my two hands taken and sharply 
pressed, while a quick, hot, little kiss fell on my 
cold cheek, and then she was gone again, and I 
was alone. Sudden, yes, undeniably it was sud- 
den, but I cannot say that it was unpleasant. Is it 
not almost enough to make one love her already ? 

“ Presently, when I passed through the outer 
room, I could see a slender form lying on the 
hitherto vacant bed, where Jadwiga had flung her- 
self down, travelling cloak and all, not having taken 
the time to wash her hands or even to remove her 
wreath. She has not moved since ; each time I 
pass through the room I can see the fantastically 
crowned head half buried in the pillow, and hear 
the sound of her regular breathing. I shall tell 
you more of her when I know more ; the impres- 
sion she has left on my mind is as yet a mixture of 
fascination and consternation. If we ever become 
friends it could only be through the working of the 
law of contrast. 

This is all for to-day. With Jadwiga’s appear- 
ance the small family circle appears to be complete, 
and she promises to be the most interesting mem- 
ber of the group. By next time I write I shall 
probably have got more used to my surroundings. 
The owls in the bushes that grow straight against 
my windows hoot at night rather more than is 
pleasant, also there is a pane broken in my win- 


24 


ONE YEAR 


dow. I have mentioned the matter to Andrej, the 
venerable footman, who appears to be the person 
of most authority in the establishment, but he 
pointed out to me that, as the whole panes were 
decidedly in the majority, there could not be much 
wrong, an argument which had not before struck 
me. No doubt he is right — to nic nie szkodzie — 
you see I am doing my best to assimilate myself to 
my surroundings. 

“ Good-bye, my dearest. Write soon to the 
poor exile, but remember to send me no messages. 

“ Yours ever, 

Eleanor Middleton.” 


CHAPTER II 


In the days that followed on the writing of that 
letter I was able to form a clear opinion both of 
Jadwiga’s looks and of her character. About the 
former I had no difficulty in making up my mind. 
In the moment that she made her appearance at 
tea that afternoon, rested, in fresh attire and with 
her hair in order, I felt satisfied that she was beau- 
tiful, although not in any style that I had hitherto 
had personal experience of. Perhaps she was al- 
most more graceful and charming than strictly 
speaking beautiful ; it is even quite conceivable 
that but for the light behind it, that delicately pale 
face with the rather full lips and the unimportant 
nose might have missed being beautiful. Anulka 
had the same cast of features and almost the same 
colour of eyes, only with a keener look in them, 
but it was quite clear even now that, although she 
might possibly become what is termed piquante,” 
she could never be beautiful, and just because that 
light was awanting. 

To my mind Jadwiga had something of the ap- 
pearance of a plant grownup in the dark; her 
beautifully clear complexion had grown over-white 
from want of fresh air, and over-soft, too, as I 

25 


26 


ONE YEAR 


gradually found out. Constitutionals are unknown 
things in Poland, and nobody in their senses thinks 
of going out except in fine weather, by which is 
understood not only absence of rain, but also of 
wind or mud or dust, or anything beyond the most 
moderate frost. As the winter lasts quite six 
months it is easy to calculate the amount of fresh 
air imbibed by the regulation Polish lady. Except 
on the balmiest summer afternoons or the most 
tepid moonlight nights going out seems in general 
to be considered in the light of a necessary evil. 
Jadwiga’s face looked as if it had never encoun- 
tered a cutting wind, and probably it never had. 
But that colourless skin was not the result of ill- 
health — indeed if her health had not been excep- 
tionally good it could never have stood the indoor 
regime — but only of circumstances. Her eyes 
looked all the darker for it; they were really 
brown, but by contrast with that almost dead white 
skin looked black. When she was tired or out of 
spirits the whiteness became almost ghastly ; when, 
on the other hand, exercise or excitement brought 
a faint tinge of colour to her cheeks, she became 
in one moment ten times more beautiful than 
usual. Her hands were models of what a hand 
should be, given that it is not meant to be used in 
any sense as an instrument — beautifully slender and 
beautifully white, and so soft that even to dream 
of its caresses was bliss — quite useless, indeed, so 


ONE YEAR 


27 


far as work was concerned, but so good to look at 
that the spectator felt a sense of personal gratitude 
toward the person who afforded him this treat. 
From the first the mere sight of these hands made 
me feel painfully conscious of my own, but I do 
not think that even the hope of rivalling these 
works of art could have reconciled me to wearing 
gloves in the house as Jadwiga was apt to do on 
the smallest provocation. Her proximity alone 
had a way of making me feel unpleasantly com- 
monplace and vulgarly robust. I think I must 
have liked her from the first in spite of this hu- 
miliating observation, and in spite of much that 
startled my somewhat narrowly British ideas. I 
came soon to understand that she was an outcome 
of her country and social usages, and to accept her 
unmurmuringly as such. It was indeed hard not 
to fall under the charm of her frankly enthusiastic 
personality. There was something peculiarly in- 
sinuating about Jadwiga, something that wound its 
way into your affections before you were aware 
that you had left a chink open. Her ardent tem- 
perament was joined to a child’s candour; she had 
the carriage of a queen and the caressing ways of 
a kitten — but of a kitten whose whole soul looked 
out of its eyes. There never was the shadow of 
mystery about Jadwiga; her openness at first often 
embarrassed me. 

“ I had three teeth stuffed this week,” she an- 


28 


ONE YEAR 


nounced to me smiling, as she sipped her tea, 
and you can’t imagine how happy I feel after it. 
I had been putting it olF as long as I could, for I 
am an awful coward, but then I began to be afraid 
I should lose a tooth, and that would never have 
done, for I am also awfully vain ; and besides 
that it hurt me to eat jam, and I am awfully 
greedy ” 

Cowardly, vain, and greedy,” summed up 
Anulka, with her elderly smile, what a nice idea 
Miss Middleton will get of you.” 

It’s better she should know the worst at 
once,” laughed Jadwiga. ‘‘ Oh, Anulka, do give 
me some more of that rose jam; I can eat it now 
with a good conscience.” 

It was with rose jam that you spoiled your 
teeth last time,” remarked Anulka almost severely, 
but she handed the plate all the same. 

Is that your real Polish rose jam ? ” I asked. 
If you will give me some, too, Anulka, I shall 
risk spoiling my teeth with it, and if it does not 
spoil them more than it has done your sister’s I 
shall be able to bear the consequences.” As I 
spoke I could not help glancing at the tiny, shin- 
ing teeth, white as porcelain, which kept appearing 
between Jadwiga’s crimson lips each time she car- 
ried the spoon to her mouth. Certainly she did 
not look in need of a dentist. I have generally 
noticed that it is the people who are always talking 


ONE YEAR 


29 


about their dentist who have, apparently, the most 
perfect teeth, perhaps because of the constant at- 
tention paid to them ; at least it is so in Galicia, 
where dentists play as great a role as do confection- 
ers, and owe to the latter at least half of their oc- 
cupation. 

Jadwiga laughed over my last remark. She had 
a wonderfully low and yet clear laugh. 

Can you English pay compliments, too ? ’’ she 
asked. I thought it was only we who did that, 
and that you were all much too sensible and prac- 
ticable. I wonder if I should like England ? Is 
it really true that one is not allowed even to play 
the piano on a Sunday ? I don’t think I could 
stand that part.” 

“ I think there would be several parts you could 
not stand,” I said, and proceeded to give her a 
sketch of an orthodox English Sunday, as spent in 
the last family I had been in — rigidly strict. Low 
Church people. The eyes of both Jadwiga and 
Anulka widened with amazement as they listened. 

“ But that is worse than Ash Wednesday or 
Good Friday,” said Anulka in horror-stricken 
tones, ‘‘except for the eating. I suppose you are 
at least allowed to eat as much as you like ? ” 

I replied that that consolation was left us, which 
slightly relieved Anulka’s mind, but Jadwiga re- 
mained pensive. 

“ But does it not just kill you with dulness ? ” 


30 


ONE YEAR 


she asked at last. Do you not all hate Sun- 
day ? ” 

“ Not those to whom dulness means rest,” I re- 
plied. 

She gave me a quick, deprecating glance ; no 
words could have begged my pardon more dis- 
tinctly. “ Oh, how stupid I am. Of course the 
dulness does not matter when one is tired, and I 
am sure you have been tired very often, but we 
will not let you tire yourself here,” and putting 
out her hand she touched mine with the lightest 
and yet softest of caresses. 

“ Now with us,” she went on, “ Sunday is just 
the least dull day in the week, sometimes quite gay, 
for very often our neighbours come and look us up 
in order to exchange the impressions of the week. 
It’s the only day they are not bothering about their 
fields, and about the only day that Mamma comes 
out of her room in order to do the honours of the 
house ; it’s only on Sundays that our board ever 
becomes festive now or that the cards are brought 
out. By the bye. Miss Middleton, will you not be 
horrified to see playing-cards on a Sunday ? Will 
you be able to get used to them ? ” 

I replied that I should do my best. But your 
Sundays are not always so gay,” I objected, for I 
have spent one here, and there were no visitors at 
all.” 

‘‘That was because Jadwiga was in Limberg,” 


ONE YEAR 


31 


promptly replied Anulka, with the odiously acute 
smile which at moments made me detest her. 

They don’t come here to talk to Mamma, or me, 
I’m quite sure about that ; and they all knew she 
was away — we always know everything about each 
other here ; you just see if they don’t turn up next 
Sunday, just as if cards of invitation had been sent 
round.” 

‘^Very likely they will,” said Jadwiga, with an 
inscrutable smile, delicately licking a morsel of 
sugared roseleaf from off her spoon. But that 
won’t necessarily make it gay, not unless the right 
ones come.” 

Make your mind easy on that point, ” said 
Anulka soothingly, “ the right ones will come, and 
the wrong ones too, and ah, I do hope that Wlad- 
imir will bring me the grapes he promised.” 

“And that Mazurka of Roszkowski’s,” added 
Jadwiga. 

“You haven’t heard Jadwiga play yet ” asked 
Anulka abruptly. 

“You sweet little goose,” laughed Jadwiga, 
“ when should Miss Middleton have heard me ? 
While I was asleep ? ” 

“ But play something for her now. I am sure 
you must want to hear Jadwiga play ? ” she asked 
eagerly. 

Let it be,” said Jadwiga, rising and going some- 
what languidly to the piano. 


32 


ONE YEAR 


The first thing she played did not enchant me, 
being the elaborate rendering of Home, Sweet 
Home,’’ and played in a somewhat laborious fash- 
ion which betrayed more drill than anything else. 
The intention was obvious, but the result calcu- 
lated to raise her kindness in my estimation, rather 
than her talent. But then, without any pause, she 
went on into Chopin, and immediately a marvel- 
lous change came over the spirit of her play. She 
was doing something now that she understood and 
loved, something that helped her to express a little 
of what was within her; and there was a great 
deal within her, as I was to find out in time. With 
astonishment I hearkened to the vibrating force 
of the chords struck by that slender and seemingly 
so fragile hand ; almost with consternation I recog- 
nised the breathless passion that seemed to cry out 
of some of those wonderful notes, a rebellious pas- 
sion, unable, or perhaps only unwilling, to contain 
itself. Chopin’s mode of expression was one pe- 
culiarly congenial to her nature, which either by 
the affinity of race or some more subtle affinity of 
spirit, seemed to guess the composer’s intention in 
passages which hitherto had always failed to move 
me, and at which I now suddenly felt the tears 
standing in my eyes. For nearly an hour she 
played on wandering from Mazurkas to Impromptus 
and back again to Mazurkas and Nocturnes, with 
a scrap of the funeral march in between. I have 


ONE YEAR 


33 


never been a musician myself in the sense of never 
having played any instrument, but I have alvv^ays 
been ridiculously susceptible to good music, and as 
I novi^ listened in the falling dusk I felt that Lud- 
niki was going to possess at least one great charm 
for me, independent of the personal one of the 
player, whose slender silhouette was growing every 
minute more phantom-like against the fast-failing 
light. I was alone with her now, for Anulka had 
early disappeared. She could not have rested until 
I had heard Jadwiga play ; indeed, her undisguised 
pride in her sister was one of the redeeming points 
in the little imp’s character, but a small dose of 
music sufficed for her personally. 

That evening while I was brushing out my hair 
for the night, my door opened, without any previ- 
ous knock, and Jadwiga’s head appeared. 

May I talk a little ? ” she asked almost humbly, 
‘‘ or are you too sleepy to listen ? You see I have 
slept all day and I am horribly wide-awake.” 

Although a little startled at the intrusion I felt it 
morally impossible in face of those pleading eyes 
to say No. It took me some time to learn that 
what we call intrusion is here only neighbourly, for 
the idea of privacy is very faintly developed in 
those countries. 

Jadwiga, without further invitation, sat down in 
her embroidered dressing-jacket upon my bed, and 
went on plaiting her hair, with a pensive smile 


34 


ONE YEAR 


about her lips, as though amused in spirit at some- 
thing. 

I wonder how you will like our neighbours,’’ 
she presently began. I mean those that you will 
see on Sunday. I do hope the right ones will 
come ; I should like to show them to you. By 
the bye. Miss Middleton, are you good at keeping 
secrets ? Oh yes, I know you are, I saw that in 
your face at once.” 

You are not going to tell me any ? ” I asked in 
some apprehension; this really was a little too 
sudden. 

Not to-day,” said Jadwiga, because I have 
not got any quite ready to tell, but perhaps I shall 
have soon. Would you mind very much if I 
bothered you with my secrets ? ” 

it jsj — j gaid^ not quite truthfully, for un- 
asked-for confidences are things I have suffered 
from all my life. How it comes that people should 
always be so anxious to tell me their secrets I can- 
not imagine. I certainly never press them, and I 
take myself to be a rather uninviting sort of per- 
son — but so it is. Formerly I used to mind it 
more than I do now, for I fancied that they would 
expect confidences in return, but I generally dis- 
cover to my relief that the arrangement is not 
meant to be reciprocal. 

You see,” went on Jadwiga, picking out of her 
hair a red maple-leaf which had stuck there among 


ONE YEAR 


35 


the thick, black tresses, a remnant of that morning’s 
wreath, if I ever have anything to say about it I 
don’t know to whom to talk. Mamma is much 
too unwell — and well, just tired of everything to 
take a lively interest in my small affairs. I know, 
of course, that she loves me, but I do not want to 
weary her, and Anulka is much too young to un- 
derstand ” — I rather doubted this in my own mind 
— ‘‘ and every one else is far away. I want some 
one dreadfully ; even before you came I wanted to 
tell you everything ; that is what made me so fear- 
fully anxious to know what you were like. I had 
been waiting for you so impatiently. Of course 
there have been other governesses in the house, but 
one of them I did not like, and the other had so 
many secrets of her own that she had no room for 
mine.” 

‘^You do sound rather lonely,” I remarked; 
‘‘has it always been like this ? ” 

“ Not while Papa was alive ; at that time 
Mamma was quite different. I was always about 
her, and she used to give me piano lessons herself, 
for she played beautifully once, far better than I 
do, but she has not played for nearly eleven years.” 

“ Your poor mother must have felt her loss ter- 
ribly,” I ventured to observe, for, indeed, it had 
struck me that this complete breakdown, both 
physical and mental, was scarcely quite explained 
even by her widowhood. Had she not her chil- 


36 


ONE YEAR 


dren to live for ? I never could spare much pa- 
tience for people who indulge their grief at the 
cost of their duty. 

“Terribly,” said Jadwiga, very low. Her hands 
rested in her lap as she spoke, with the black hair 
wound about them ; for a moment or two she re- 
mained quite still looking fixedly at the floor. 

“ If your father has been dead for ten years I 
suppose Anulka can scarcely remember him ? ” I 
remarked. 

“ She does not remember him at all ; she was 
born after his death.” 

“ And you ? ” 

“ I remember him, oh yes , I shall always re- 
member him.” There was a ring of pain in the 
words — of a pain that seemed mingled with fear, 
and as she spoke she got up from my bed. 

“ Miss Middleton, I think I am getting sleepy 
after all,” she added, in a different tone. “ Good- 
bye till to-morrow.” And merely nodding to me 
with a faint smile, she left me alone, a little sur- 
prised at this abrupt termination of the interview, 
and wondering whether I had been in any way in- 
discreet. 


CHAPTER III 


On Sunday, as Anulka had predicted, I had my 
first view of our neighbours, and also for the first 
time saw Madame Bielinska outside her private 
apartment. In broad daylight she looked even 
more ghastly than I had expected ; these periodical 
appearances in public were to her obviously a phys- 
ical and mental torture, undergone solely for the 
sake of satisfying conventionality, and unable to 
rouse her from her chronic apathy. Dressed care- 
fully in her best silk, of a fashion of a dozen years 
back, and with a new pair of yellow gloves on her 
hands, she remained crushed into a corner of the 
big sofa or sat throned at the head of the long 
table, taking no interest in her guests and no part 
in the conversation ; not embarrassed, not ridicu- 
lous, but simply wearied, only calling up a tired 
smile when addressed, and evidently counting the 
moments to her deliverance. On a stranger the 
effect was depressing ; but the habitual visitors 
were evidently too well used to the neutral attitude 
of their hostess to let the entertainment suffer 
thereby, beyond punctually fulfilling their fixed 
forms of politeness — and these forms are tolerably 
complicated, as it is de rigueur after every meal for 

37 


38 


ONE YEAR 


every gentleman to kiss the hostess’s hand and 
every lady to shake it — they did not trouble them- 
selves further about her. They all knew’ that she 
wanted to be let alone. That poor, weary hand 
was kissed pretty often of a Sunday, for the guests 
were numerous and the meals frequent. A visit 
paid in the country in Poland often begins at 
breakfast-time and never ends till after supper. By 
one o’clock the big, bare Ludniki drawing-room 
was quite tolerably peopled, chiefly by the stronger 
sex — that little wretch of an Anulka had been right 
about the news of Jadwiga’s return having spread 
— and we sat down to dinner, not much under 
twenty head high. In one of my early letters to 
Agnes I find my first impressions of these people 
put down. 

Perhaps the most curious specimen in the col- 
lection,” I wrote to her on that occasion, “ was a 
large, elderly, gentlemanlike barbarian in the Polish 
national dress, who smelt frightfully of strong to- 
bacco, and ought never to move without a spittoon 
at his elbow, but who makes so splendid a picture, 
and has so completely the grand air^ that it is im- 
possible quite to disapprove of anything he does. 
His name is written Lewicki, I believe, and he is a 
near neighbour and large landed proprietor. He 
had his son with him — the nearest approach to my 
idea of a fairy-tale prince that has ever come my 
way ; long, slender limbs, a beardless boy’s face, a 


ONE YEAR 


39 


particularly delicate curve of jaw, a marvellous line 
of throat, long-cut brown eyes, ready either to melt 
or to kindle, as occasion demanded — you know the 
sort of thing, don’t you ? Often enough seen in 
print but hardly ever in flesh and blood. There is 
just enough curl in his silky, yellow hair to make 
his head at a little distance look as though it were 
moulded out of solid gold. Seriously he seems to 
me to be about as good looking as a man can be 
out of a story-book, and also to be quite aware of 
his good looks and fond of displaying them to the 
best advantage. I should not call it affectation — 
it is too naif and straightforward for that — but 
rather a childishly frank pleasure in what he knows 
himself to possess. 

Of the other young men present the one with 
whom I had most conversation was a dark, reo-ular- 

» o 

featured man of somewhere about thirty, who prob- 
ably would likewise be good looking if he were not 
quite too unreasonably thin, with a nose that posi- 
tively looks as though it were coming through the 
skin, and a perpetual blotch of shadow under the 
cheek-bones. This, too, is a neighbour, it seems, 
although not in such good circumstances, as, in- 
deed, his very clothes testify. I don’t think I 
have ever seen within polite walls a black coat so 
perilously near to the border of the inadmissible. 
Among the further guests I must not forget to note 
down the doctor and his wife, inhabitants of Zloc- 


40 


ONE YEAR 


zek, our post-town, and a queerly assorted couple 
— he ponderous and elderly, with a shock-head of 
grey hair and a face that seems to consist of a 
series of lumps ; she at least twenty years younger 
and almost as pretty as her husband is ugly — dark- 
eyed, bright complexioned, lively, and neat as a 
bird — dressy, talkative, almost obtrusively oblig- 
ing, and — I should guess — frankly frivolous — too 
frankly in fact, for it is embarrassing to have to 
listen to denunciations of the sort of : — ^ I can’t 
manage to be serious like other people ’ — ‘ I don’t 
pretend to care for anything except amusement,’ 
and difficult to know what to answer. It was all I 
could do to defend myself from her proffered offers 
of service, for the little woman seemed to take a 
fancy to my society, or perhaps was only curious 
to see what a real Englishwoman was like at close 
quarters. With clasped hands she implored me to 
let her do all my shopping for me at Zloczek, in- 
forming me in the same breath that nothing decent 
was to be got there for love or money ; if I wanted 
either letter paper or elastic for my hats I had only 
to drop her a note and she would immediately aban- 
don all other occupations to fulfil my wishes. 
When told I was provided with both letter paper 
and elastic she appeared inconsolable. But, per- 
haps, I had a desire for thread and needles ? No ? 
Was there absolutely nothing that she could get for 
me; or do for me ? Well, then, at least I must 


ONE YEAR 


41 


promise to come and see her, and let her show me 
her children. It sounds too spasmodic to be genu- 
ine, but it is genuine all the same. Very likely she 
would forget all about the elastic if I did ask her to 
procure me some, and would send me quite the 
wrong number of thread, but that does not alter the 
kindness of the intention. Many of them are like 
that ; it is their way of making one feel at home.’’ 

There are more portraits sketched in this same 
letter, but I have picked out only those of persons 
who afterward came to play at least some slight 
part in the story I am telling ; the other — 
principally smooth-faced young men, with won- 
derfully cut finger nails and rather too exquisite 
manners, accompanied here and there by a sister 
or a mother — never came to act as more than 
chorus. 

Despite this wide selection of youths, despite 
the fact that each of them tried to secure the 
place beside Jadwiga, it did not take me long to 
pick out the two most serious candidates for her 
favour — those referred to by Anulka on the very 
day of my arrival. That one of them was the fair- 
haired, fairy-tale prince I had early suspected — 
those melting brown eyes of his were too tell-tale 
in their expression — but whether or not his rival 
was present it took me a little time to ascertain. 
It was not until we had risen from table, and the 
customary salutations were going on, that my at- 


42 


ONE YEAR 


tention was directed to the gaunt, shabbily-dressed 
man aforementioned. His turn had come to kiss 
Jadwiga’s hand — the last of the row of black coats 
filing off toward the drawing-room. By chance I 
was looking in that direction, and saw how in the 
moment of raising her hand he quietly and deliber- 
ately put back the edge of the glove into which she 
had already slipped her fingers, and then only pro- 
ceeded to imprint upon her bare wrist the custom- 
ary salute. Done clumsily the thing would have 
been an impertinence, but the sort of respectful 
audacity of the gesture saved it even in Jadwiga’s 
eyes, though she coloured faintly and attempted to 
frown. The delicate French kid of her pearl-grey 
glove was unimpeachable, and yet it was evidently 
not to his taste. Just then I remembered that this 
dark, thin man, my opposite at table, had eaten his 
dinner almost silently, and that his eyes had often 
strayed toward where Jadwiga sat with the fair- 
haired youth beside her. From that moment I be- 
gan to observe him more carefully. The interest 
I already felt in Jadwiga naturally awoke an inter- 
est in her possible wooers. 

In the big drawing-room the card tables stood 
ready — a strange sight to my English eyes by 
broad daylight and on a Sunday, but to every one 
else quite natural, almost inevitable. While black 
coffee was being drunk the old gentlemen began to 
recruit for their sets, and without much difficulty 


ONE YEAR 


43 


either, for young men in this country love tarac 
and cigarettes almost as much as flirtation and 
cigarettes. By this time nearly every man in the 
room and several of the ladies were rolling one of 
the latter between their fingers. About the only 
man not doing so was my vis-a-vis at dinner, 
whose name I presently learnt to be Krysztof 
Malewicz. I was close to where he stood, unoc- 
cupied, with his back against the wall when Jad- 
wiga, in her character of quasi hostess, intent on 
seeing every one disposed according to his inclina- 
tions, came flitting toward us. 

Oh, Krysztof,’’ she said, eagerly, would you 
not take a hand at Pan Barnowski’s table ? They 
are short of a player over there.” 

“ I never play cards,” replied Malewicz with a 
touch of haughty surprise ; surely you know 
that ? ” 

‘^Yes, I know; but just for to-day perhaps?” 
she persisted. 

It is quite impossible,” he said, a little 
brusquely. 

Even if I ask you ? ” And I must confess 
that as she said it she put a not quite legitimate 
amount of pressure into her eyes, for even the 
truest and least frivolous Polish woman has at least 
one grain of the coquette in her composition. 

I could see him thrill, but, although his mouth 
contracted, he answered without hesitation : ‘‘‘ Even 


44 


ONE YEAR 


if you asked me/’ and he looked at her very stead- 
ily, and, as it seemed to me, sadly, as he spoke. 

She shrugged her shoulders impatiently and was 
gone, but after two minutes was back again. 

“ I have found somebody — you are let off* for to- 
day — but since you are not going to play cards, 
what are you going to do ? ” I must explain here 
that a Polish hostess has the terrible habit of 
never leaving her guests to their own devices. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” returned Male- 
wicz with his keen, dark eyes upon her face. 

I am going to play presently. Wladimir has 
brought me that Mazurka he raves about. You 
can listen if you have nothing better to do, but, by 
the bye, you don’t care for music, I think ? ” 

I never said I did not care for music,” he re- 
plied with almost unnecessary deliberateness, “ but 
only that I range music among the luxuries, not 
the necessities of life.” 

“ Well, Sunday is a day for luxuries, is it 
not ? ” she lightly retorted. You really might 
do worse than listen.” 

“ Is Wladimir going to listen, too ? ” he asked 
without moving a muscle of his face. 

Of course, since it was he who brought me the 
music. Has he not the first right to hear it ? ” 

“ Then I think I shall listen another time — 
some day perhaps when you think that I have a 
right to hear it.” 


ONE YEAR 


45 


Jadwiga looked a trifle put out, I thought. 

“As you like,” she said, turning from him, 
“ you seem in a difficult humour to suit to-day ; I 
am not going to make any more suggestions for 
your benefit. And you. Miss Middleton, how are 
you going to amuse yourself? ” 

I begged to be allowed to look after myself, 
being just on the point of slipping away for a walk. 
Even the Mazurka could not keep me indoors on 
such an afternoon as this ; I knew that I should 
hear it another time and under more favourable 
circumstances. 

“ May I walk with you ? ” said my neighbour 
abruptly. 

Much though I should have preferred solitude 
there was nothing for it but to say Yes, and pres- 
ently, while the cards began to fall on the tables 
and the cigarette smoke to curl up to the ceiling 
and the first notes of the Mazurka to float out of 
the windows, I walked out into the autumn sun- 
shine tete-a-tete with this stranger whose name I 
had not yet mastered, and who already was begin- 
ning to interest me by proxy, so to say. 

It was a long, straight walk we struck into, the 
longest and the straightest in the whole park, the 
only one which seemed to give it a sort of moral 
backbone ; anywhere else it would have led to a 
summerhouse, here it led to nowhere in particular. 
To judge by the profusion of scarlet hips branch- 


46 


ONE YEAR 


ing like coral on both sides of the way, there must 
be a fine show of roses here in summer. I had 
already adopted this rose-walk for my constitu- 
tionals, allured by its privacy as well as its com- 
parative evenness. 

To my relief I soon perceived that my com- 
panion did not think it necessary to entertain me. 
Just at first, in fact, he seemed to have forgotten 
my existence j with his hands behind his back and 
his eyes fixed abstractedly on the ground he moved 
along by my side as though I had not been. We 
were half way down the rose-walk before he 
remarked unexpectedly : — 

‘^You must have thought me very ungracious 
just now ? ” 

About the music ? ’’ I said. Well, so was I, 
if it comes to that ; but I never find that music and 
society agree.” 

No, not about the music, about the cards. 
Do you think I was rude to Mademoiselle 
Bielinska ? ” 

I hesitated. “Not rude, perhaps, but rather 
more categorical than the occasion demanded. 
You spoke as though you had a positive dislike to 
cards.” 

“ So I have, and with good reason, too. My 
father lost his fortune at cards,” he added with 
a simplicity which, to my ideas, was a little start- 
ling. 


ONE YEAR 


47 


Does Jadwiga know of this ? ” I asked, after a 
moment. 

Every one knows it. Many is the night that 
her father and mine have spent with a green table 
between them. Ask Pan Lewicki, Wladimir’s 
father, he knows it better than anybody, since he 
is the only one of that gay trio remaining — the 
trois mousquetaires^ as they used to call them in 
Paris long ago. Oh, yes, of course she knows it ; 
but you must not imagine her unkind because of 
having asked me,” he added, quickly, she is only 
thoughtless and young — oh, ever so much younger 
than I am ! ” 

By the ring in his voice I felt certain from that 
moment not only that he was seeking Jadwiga, but 
also that he loved her, and with this conviction in 
my mind I gave him another and more critical 
side-glance. He was exaggeratedly thin, certainly, 
but it was a thinness which did not give the 
impression of ill-health — rather of extreme wiriness 
and toughness of fibre. The eyes were black and 
keen, rather deep-set, with a flame ready to spring 
to the surface each moment, the forehead well 
moulded, the whole face eager and strong. Per- 
haps he was a little too tall for the breadth of his 
shoulders, but he held himself well. Such as he 
was I could see no reason why Jadwiga should not 
love him, and already, unconsciously, I was begin- 
ning to hope that she would. 


48 


ONE YEAR 


You don’t seem to be so very old yet,” I could 
not help observing in answer to his last remark. 
He did not seem to me to be more than thirty at 
the outside. 

“ Do you count age by years ? ” he replied, ‘‘ or 
not rather by what those years have been full of, 
whether of joy or pain, play or work ? I have 
played very little in my life ; perhaps that is why I 
sometimes think that I have never been young. 
No, I could not have done what she wanted of 
me,” he went on in the same breath, but I wish 
I could teach myself to be smoother in my refusals. 
Roughness is not generally the fault of my nation ; 
I think I must have picked it up in the fields among 
the workmen.” 

I believe it was this very roughness which, in 
the midst of so much smoothness, had awakened 
my sympathies from the first, by its distant 
resemblance to British bluntness ; but I could 
scarcely tell him so, and presently the talk — such 
desultory talk as we carried on — had drifted into 
other and less personal channels. It was only at 
the end of our stroll, when we were close to the 
house again, that there passed some more words 
which I can still recall. 

‘‘Your nation may be both musical and artistic,” 
I could not help remarking, as we approached the 
oddly-placed entrance, “but it certainly has no 
passion for symmetry. What, for instance, could 


ONE YEAR 


49 


have induced the person \vho built this house to stick 
the front door into such an improbable place ? Why 
on earth should it not stand in the middle ? It is 
its only legitimate place in a building of this style.” 

The person who built the house is not respon- 
sible/’ replied my companion. The entrance 
used to be in the middle. Have you not noticed 
the old door walled up — over there between the 
two centre windows ? ” 

I certainly had observed a large patch in the 
masonry, whose colour betrayed it as if of a differ- 
ent date from the rest of the surface. “ And that 
was the entrance ? ” I asked. 

Yes, I never alighted at any other door when I 
was a child. You can still trace the bit of road 
that led up to it, although the grass has grown 
thick there now.” 

‘‘And what made them change it ? ” I asked. 

“ It was walled up after Pan Bielinski’s death,” 
said Malewicz, a trifle curtly. “ Probably the 
family did not care to use it again.” 

This struck me as curious, but Malewicz was 
evidently not inclined to say more, and, besides, we 
had reached the house already. 

By this time the big drawing-room was dim and 
blue with the smoke of innumerable cigarettes, and 
the tables laden with trays of glasses, and crystal 
dishes on which marvellous cakes and extraordinary 
jams lay temptingly displayed, while somewhere in 


50 


ONE YEAR 


the corner a big samovar was puffing audibly. 
The cards still fell regularly on the green tables, 
but Jadwiga had left the piano, and, surrounded 
by a small group of admirers, was holding what 
seemed to be an animated discussion. 

Oh, do come here. Miss Middleton,” she 
cried, catching sight of us, and listen to my plan, 
and you, too. Pan Malewicz. I want to arrange 
a fishing party this week. This is the year for the 
big pond to be cleaned, you know, and there will 
be lots of fish. It is as good as a play to see the 
peasants driving them into the nets — we can follow 
them in a boat. You will be of the party, too, 
will you not. Pan Malewicz ? The more people 
there are the merrier it will be.” 

Which day have you arranged ? ” asked Male- 
wicz. 

Wednesday.” 

‘‘ I shall not have got my turnips all in by 
Wednesday,” said he after a moment’s reflection. 

As if it was possible to think of turnips when 
a wish of Mademoiselle Bielinska falls into the 
balance ! ” cried the golden-haired Wladimir, in 
evidently sincere indignation. “ Why, I would 
abandon a whole corn harvest rather than disap- 
point her.” 

The question is, whether the corn harvest 
would suffer greatly by your absence,” remarked 
Malewicz without looking at his interlocutor. 


ONE YEAR 


51 


Really,” said Jadwiga, half laughing and half 
provoked, it is evidently wasted trouble to ask 
anything from you to-day. You have said ‘ No ’ 
to me twice to-day, and this is evidently going to 

be the third time ” 

Never mind the ungrateful man,” put in 
Wladimir eagerly. Leave him to his turnips and 
his fate, and let us keep the fishing all to our- 
selves.” 

No, this is not going to be the third time,” 
said Malewicz quickly. “ You are right about my 
having been very rude to-day. I don’t usually take 
a holiday during the week, but I shall do so this 
week in order to make amends. At what hour am 
I to be at the pond, Pani Bielinska ? ” 

^‘That is good of you,” said Jadwiga with a 
frank gratitude, and such a glance as would have 
unsettled most men’s heads, and impulsively she 
gave him her hand which he carried to his lips, and 
kept there a moment longer than was absolutely 
necessary. 

Instinctively I looked at my fairy-tale prince, 
and saw in his smooth face a shadow of annoy- 
ance as well as of almost childish surprise. 


CHAPTER IV 


It is difficult for me to say when exactly I be- 
gan to suspect that there must have been some- 
thing unusual about Mr. Bielinski’s death, some 
circumstance connected with it that seemed to 
make the family and even their acquaintances shy 
of speaking of it, and the memory of which hung 
over the house like a shadow. I think, however, 
that my suspicions must have come early, for al- 
ready before the end of October I find myself 
writing thus to Agnes — 

I cannot explain to you why it is, but I have 
lately begun to scent an element of mystery in the 
family atmosphere, and at a guess I should say that 
the mystery points to the defunct Mr. Bielinski. 
Many circumstances lead me to this conclusion : 
the reserve of the usually so unreserved Jadwiga 
concerning her father ; that walled-up entrance — 
used apparently for the last time at his funeral ; an 
unoccupied room which goes by the name of the 
‘ master’s room,’ and which I have noticed that 
the servants avoid entering after dark ; above all, 
that stricken woman shut up from the light of day, 
and who, as I am told, was gay and lively until the 
day of her widowhood. Surely that man cannot 

52 


ONE YEAR 


53 


have died quietly in his bed, but rather in some 
exceptional way, the impression of which has re- 
mained with his family until now. All that I have 
learnt is that he was a gambler in his youth j but 
in a country where every second man is a gambler 
this scarcely even calls for remark, and his fortune, 
at any rate, does not seem to have suffered from 
those early excesses. In the room I spoke of there 
hangs his portrait beside that of Madame Bielinska, 
both taken at the time of their marriage. It is 
from him, evidently, that Jadwiga takes her 
looks, not from her mother — a splendily moulded, 
but with far too soft curves for a man, with his 
daughter’s eyes, yet without her straightness of 
gaze, and a mouth that lacks strength. The of- 
tener I look at the portrait the more so I wonder 
what his history can have been, and yet I do not 
well see whom I could ask.” 

Just about the time of the writing of this letter 
my suspicions received new food. This was on 
the day of the fishing party. On that day, too — 
memorable to me in various ways — Anulka gave 
us all a fine fright ; but before I come to the results 
of the fishing I have something to say of the fish- 
ing itself. This afternoon it was which brought 
me into better acquaintance with the fair-haired, 
fair-faced Wladimir, whom at our first meeting I 
had only admired at a distance, as one admires a 
picture. The closer view I had that day of him 


54 


ONE YEAR 


was calculated only to heighten the favourable im- 
pression already received. 

I was standing almost solitary on the broad, flat 
bank which ran round the pond when Wladimir 
first approached me. It was at the further side of 
the village, whose straw-thatched hovels crawled 
up to the gates of Ludniki and whose wide, mud- 
paved, swine-encumbered street had to be traversed 
each time you desired to walk outside the park, 
that lay the pond — a small lake we would have 
called it at home — about two acres in extent, I 
should say, almost square, obviously artificial, and 
fed by a sluice from the neighbouring stream. It 
formed part of the Ludniki property, but was let 
to a Jew, as Jadwiga explained to me, and once in 
three years was run dry in order to be cleared of 
all fish beyond a given size. This was the event- 
ful year, and consequently the whole interest of the 
village was centred round the staw (pond). On 
this Wednesday afternoon its low banks were 
thickly studded with groups of shaggy, flaxen- 
haired, scantily-covered children, together with 
their sheepskin-coated elders, all intent on at least 
shouting out directions, even if not called upon to 
take an active part in the sport. The pond itself 
was more of a curious than a beautiful sight to- 
day, for all but the last and muddiest two feet of 
water had been run ofF, and on the slippery floor 
of this dingy fluid men and women were staggering 


ONE YEAR 


55 


about bare-legged, dragging their heavy nets behind 
them, and slipping each fish secured into the sack 
slung round their necks. Sometimes a larger 
net, held by the occupants of two flat-bottomed 
boats, was slowly swept toward some particular 
point, from where a long line of peasants, destined 
to cut off* the retreat of the fish, advanced amid 
wild shouts and much throwing of stones. All 
these people were in the service of the Jew farm- 
ing the pond, and who now moved about the bank 
from point to point, a restless black figure which 
seemed to want to be everywhere at a time, and 
with uneasy eyes that attempted to keep note of 
every fish slipped into every sack, for fear of being 
cheated of even one. 

Jadwiga and Anulka with Madame Kouska, the 
doctor’s wife, had entered a boat in order to ob- 
serve the sport more closely, and several of the 
young men were preparing to follow in a second 
boat. Left to my own society I was just about to 
take my place on a stem of one of the old willows 
with which the bank was planted at regular inter- 
vals, and one of which had stooped so low just 
here that it appeared to be almost crawling on the 
earth, when Wladimir, who was in the second boat, 
perceived me, and springing to the shore, came run- 
ning up the bank. 

Oh, Miss — Miss — I am afraid I have forgot- 
ten your name,” he said, with a most engaging 


56 


ONE YEAR 


smile, but surely you are not going to remain 
here all by yourself? That would be too dread- 
fully dull for you ! ” 

He looked so genuinely distressed that I almost 
laughed in his face. How could he know that 
some people are conceited enough not to find their 
own company dull ? 

There seems no help/’ I said, ‘‘ since the boats 
are full.” 

‘‘Will you not take my place?” he asked 
earnestly. 

“ And leave you alone on the bank ? Certainly 
not j why you have just said that it would be ter- 
ribly dull. You had better make haste and re- 
gain your place ; your friends are just pushing 
off.” 

He looked after the departing boats, then turned 
back resolutely toward me. 

“ Since there is not room for both of us I shall 
stay here. It would spoil all my pleasure to think 
of you sitting all alone on this rotten old willow.” 

I looked at him incredulously, and saw, to my 
surprise, that he actually meant what he said. 
From what I learnt to know of him later I really 
do believe that his pleasure would have suffered 
considerably from the knowledge that some one 
was feeling dull on the bank. There is a certain 
sort of people — and they are always most intrin- 
sically lovable people — who cannot enjoy them- 


ONE YEAR 


57 


selves properly unless they know that every one 
else is doing the same. 

‘‘ If there was no room for you in the boat at 
least there is for me on this trunk,” he said gaily, 
and without further leave took his place at my 
side. It was done with such boyish grace, and the 
whole act was in itself so graceful and so kindly 
meant, that I do not deny having felt touched. 
That a young man, in an advanced stage of the 
tender passion, and with the object of his devotion 
present, should find time to look after a plain-faced, 
elderly stranger, and this a governess, was, indeed, 
unusual. Truly the fairy-tale prince kept up his 
character in his acts as well as his looks ; this was 
exactly the sort of youth who would alight in order 
to give a lift to the inevitable old hag, or would 
stop to bind up the sick wolf’s paw, or to let the 
mouse out of the trap. True, in the fairy tales, 
the young man never fails to reap his reward in 
the shape either of a beautiful princess or of a 
golden castle built over-night, but what reward 
could Wladimir ever hope to get from me ? 

And yet though he had expected both the castle 
and the princess he could not have been more 
assiduous than he showed himself during the next 
hour. A wistful glance in the direction of the dis- 
tant boats, a momentary cloud of anxiety on his 
fair forehead when some especially clear peal of 
laughter came to us across the water was all that 


58 


ONE YEAR 


showed his occasionally wavering attention. Why 
he should desire to win my sympathy I could not 
possibly imagine, yet the symptoms seemed to point 
that way. On Sunday he had presumably not dis- 
covered me yet, or had been too much engrossed 
by the reappearance of Jadwiga to have quite real- 
ised who I was ; but to-day he had apparently 
singled me out, perhaps only from the same spirit 
of overflowing hospitality which had moved Ma- 
dame Kouska to charge herself with my shopping. 

‘^You must find our customs very barbarous,” 
he said once with a sigh, as the yells of the bare- 
legged peasants rose in a fresh chorus, for it be- 
longed to the principle of the thing to make as 
much noise as possible. I could see that he was 
watching me anxiously, as though to observe the 
effect of the somewhat uncouth exhibition on a 
stranger. 

Picturesquely barbarous,” I replied. 

‘‘ But still, barbarous,” he persisted, evidently 
dissatisfied. ‘‘Tell me, do such exhibitions make 
you think worse of the nation which tolerates them ? ” 
“ Really ! ” I said, amused at his over-great earn- 
estness, “ I have not considered that point seriously 
yet. Your nation is altogether so puzzling and 
so — well so inconsistent in its qualities that I have 
not come to any conclusion about it yet.” 

He moved a little nearer to me on our rustic 
seat, his interest evidently aroused. 


ONE YEAR 


59 


^‘Tell me, now; in what ways ? How do you 
find us inconsistent ? What qualities do you grant 
us, and which deny ? ” 

Order, to begin with, and method, which really 
means steadiness and perseverance, while courage 
and chivalry you have in far greater proportion 
than even most brave and chivalrous nations.’’ 

Wladimir’s eyes shone at my words. 

They are noble qualities which you accord us, 
nobler than those you deny.” 

But not always so useful in the history of a 
people.” 

“ Courage and chivalry,” he repeated, as though 
taking pleasure in the sound of the words ; “ then 
you admit that we can be loyal ? ” 

Indeed I do, and generously kind ; to the 
stranger above all,” I said with perhaps a little 
emotion in my voice, for nothing had touched me 
so much as the warm reception on all sides. 

‘‘You are thanking me for having stayed beside 
you,” said Wladimir, in a burst of delight, “ please 
believe that it was a pleasure.” And to my con- 
sternation he took hold of my hand and fervently 
kissed it. 

I had not been thinking more specially of this 
instance of kindness than of many others, but in 
face of the boy’s artless conviction it was impos- 
sible to disclaim. 

“ If you were as steady as you are hospitable, as 


6o 


ONE YEAR 


robust and vigorous as you are generous/" I re- 
marked, partly as a means of damping his enthu- 
siasm, for I did not care to have him any nearer to 
me on the willow stem, then your nation would 
never have failed.” 

^‘You find us effeminate?” he asked, with an 
instant return of anxiety. 

I should not say that — a people which has 
died in heaps on battlefields can never be called 
effeminate, but you seem to keep all your moral 
energy for extraordinary occasions, and to lock it 
away carefully in every-day life — that is what 
makes you so puzzling. Even your clothes and 
your boots proclaim the difference between Poles 
and Englishmen ; yours are so obviously calculated 
for drawing-rooms, ours for muddy roads and 
thorns and heather. Take, for instance, the ques- 
tion of galoshes ; I must honestly confess that I 
had never even seen a man under sixty in galoshes 
until I came here.” 

But what do they do when the weather is 
wet ? ” asked Wladimir with charming naivete^ 
looking down reflectively on his own faultless pat- 
ent leather shoes. 

They get their feet wet,” I gravely replied. 

“ And do you find it ridiculous for a man to 
keep his feet dry ? 

Ridiculous ? No. Nothing is really ridiculous 
except to the narrow-minded. It all depends on 


ONE YEAR 


6i 

the point of view. I only meant that the idea is 
new to me. And, besides, what can it matter to 
you what I find or do not find ? ’’ I added, fearing 
that I had gone too far in my strictures. “ I do 
not pretend that my opinion has any weight ; 
indeed it is scarcely an opinion at all, only a first 
impression.*’ 

“ It matters to me a great deal what you think,” 
he said with a seriousness which annoyed me then, 
but which came to explain itself in a hundred ways 
later. They are coming back,” he said in the 
same breath, but in quite a different tone, rising to 
his feet as he spoke. 

From the moment that the boats touched the 
shore I was rid of my almost obtrusively attentive 
squire. He had fasted too long from the be- 
loved presence to be able to restrain himself any 
longer. Indeed when I think of the pangs of 
jealousy which his susceptible heart must have 
been undergoing while sitting beside me on that 
willow stem, knowing all the time his rival to be 
in full possession of the field, I feel remorse even 
now. But he made up amply for lost time. Dat- 
ing from the landing of the party he had eyes and 
ears for one person alone. The rest of the after- 
noon was, in fact, a sort of moral duel between 
him and Malewicz, in whom I had pains in rec- 
ognising my taciturn companion of last Sunday. 
By the restless light in his black eyes and the 


62 


ONE YEAR 


somewhat restless gaiety of his whole bearing it 
was easy to see that, having once made up his 
mind to the infringement of principle which to him 
was included in this week-day holiday, he was de- 
termined to drain the pleasure to the dregs. To- 
day he was as quick as even Wladimir, in reading 
every wish in the eyes of his mistress. And she 
had a good many wishes to-day, as indeed she was 
apt to have. She had brought one with her back 
from the pond, and as she stepped on shore aided 
by Malewicz, it was put into words. 

“ How would it be to drink tea here ? ” she ex- 
claimed gleefully. “ Is there any reason why I 
should not send for the samovar ? It is much too 
early to go home yet, and it will taste ever so 
much better here — that willow is a sofa ready 
made.” 

It is needless to say that the idea was enthusi- 
astically taken up, affording the two rivals endless 
opportunities of outdoing each other’s zeal. One 
charged himself with procuring the samovar from 
the house, the other with collecting sticks for heat- 
ing it; both seemed bent on cracking their cheeks 
with blowing on the recalcitrant coals that would 
not glow as they ought, and their endeavours to 
distribute glasses and plates were so much more 
strenuous than judicious as to prove fatal to more 
than one piece of crockery. Wladimir it was 
whose skill in cutting up the cakes called forth 


ONE YEAR 63 

Jadvviga’s outspoken approval, but a greater tri- 
umph w^as reserved to Malewicz. 

What a pity we can’t have one of those big 
carps to tea,” Madame Kouska had observed. 

They did look so appetising flashing about in 
the net.” 

^‘That is an idea ! ” cried Jadwiga, always ready 
for anything new. Why do you say ‘ a pity ’ ? 
We have only got to buy one from the Jew 
and roast it on the spot, here, under the trees — ah, 
it makes me feel hungry already — let us do it at 
once, this very moment ! I can’t possibly wait for 
more than five minutes.” 

It was Jadwiga’s habit to want everything to 
happen at once ; any space left between a sugges- 
tion and its execution was to her impatient cast of 
mind a sort of agony. She had scarcely done 
speaking when Malewicz had already started along 
the bank toward where the Jew, surrounded by large 
water barrels, was superintending the sorting of the 
fish. Wladimir, busy with artistically disposing 
his slices of cake, had missed his opportunity this 
time. In a few minutes Malewicz was back hold- 
ing a magnificent carp in his hands. A radiant 
glance rewarded him — far too radiant it seemed to 
my perhaps rather rigid principles. Jadwiga, in- 
toxicated either by the brilliancy of the dazzling 
autumn day — for the magnificent weather of my 
arrival had not yet broken — or by the ardour of 


64 


ONE YEAR 


her admirers, seemed possessed to-day by a devil 
of coquetry which obviously delighted in pitting 
the two men against each other. Dressed in a 
pearl-grey cashmere which she had brought with 
her from Limberg and with a broad-brimmed, soft 
felt on her head, her cheeks faintly coloured by 
the crispness of the air, she was looking beautiful 
enough to make her task easy indeed. 

You are dropping the water on to the ladies ! ” 
cried Wladimir, in accents of true horror. Why 
did you not take a boy to carry it ? ” 

Then came the diihcult question of cleaning, 
solved by calling in a peasant girl from the gaping 
crowd around us. 

Soon a most appetising scent arose from the hot 
coals on which the carp was grilling, and by this 
time, too, the samovar had allowed itself to be 
coaxed into a good humour ; more baskets of pro- 
visions had arrived from the house, and our little 
feast gaily took its course. When I look back in 
memory to that day, which, to my mind, always 
remains a turning-point in Jadwiga’s history, I 
still quite vividly feel the impression of the keen, 
radiant sunshine — so keen that it drew flashes even 
from the brown dregs of the pond — of the old 
burst willows leaning all aslant, as though search- 
ing for their images in that dingy mirror, of the last 
yellow willow leaves that fluttered into our plates 
from oiF the almost naked branches and the gossa- 


ONE YEAR 


65 


mer threads that kept slowly floating past before 
our eyes. Close at hand there was a hedge of 
women and children, devouring us, and more espe- 
cially our victuals, with their eyes, and beyond 
there was the flat, treeless country, looking flatter, 
and to-day, because of the intense transparency of 
the atmosphere, the mushroom-like huts of distant 
villages were clearly visible, the brown of the 
newly-turned fields contrasting sharply even with 
those that had been turned a week ago — and, above 
it all, and through it all, there were the yells of the 
wading peasants in the water. 

All at once — we were far on in our feast by 
that time — the yells rose in an acuter chorus. 
From a group somewhere about the middle of the 
pond something apparently exciting but quite in- 
comprehensible was being shouted to us. 

‘‘ What are they saying ? ” asked Jadwiga of the 
bystanders. 

They have caught the biggest fish in the 
pond,” explained a woman, “ and they believe it is 
going to break the net.” 

“ Oh, that must be the old carp they put back 
again each time,” said Jadwiga. He has been 
here since the time of my grandfather; the Jew is 
not allowed to take this one out — he is supposed to 
bring luck to the pond. I saw him three years 
ago ; let us go and look at him now.” 

Some of the ladies, having apparently had 


66 


ONE YEAR 


enough boating for the day, pretended not to hear, 
but Jadwiga ran down to the bank, without stop- 
ping to see who was following. The two boats 
were still lying side by side ; I saw Malewicz help 
her into one and begin rapidly to push away from 
the shore with the long pole used by the peasants 
on the pond, for it was too shallow now for oars. 
I cannot exactly say how the thing happened, for I 
had remained on the top of the bank, but I suppose 
that Anulka in her haste had jumped into the wrong 
boat, and when she saw the first one moving away 
and in her fear of being left behind tried to jump 
from the one into the other and fell short. At any 
rate, not a minute after Jadwiga had left us we 
heard a double shriek, and, rushing to the top of 
the bank, saw Anulka splashing wildly in the 
water, only a few yards from the shore, while the 
boat with Malewicz and Jadwiga, following the 
impulse of the last stroke given by the pole, was 
moving away from her. 

“ Save her ! ” cried Jadwiga, standing upright 
in the boat, and looking as pale as though her 
sister had fallen into the sea instead of into two 
feet of water. Having slipped to her knees in 
falling there was of course not much to be seen 
of Anulka’s small person, which naturally increased 
the flurry of the beholders. 

I heard Malewicz shouting something, as, hav- 
ing with a rapid movement changed the course of 


ONE YEAR 


67 


the boat, he held out the end of the pole toward 
Anulka. She grasped it convulsively with her 
wet hands and would have been in the boat al- 
most immediately, but at that moment some one 
snatched her up bodily and carried her to the bank. 
It was Wladimir, who arriving just one moment 
too late to help Jadwiga into the first boat had been 
preparing to board the second when Anulka took 
her fatal leap. With his dripping burden in his 
arms he now climbed the bank, and as he put her 
down cautiously on the grass his hard breathing 
and high colour betrayed an excitement which 
even then struck me as not quite in proportion to 
the deed accomplished. 

She is saved,” he said, turning with a certain 
solemnity to Jadwiga, who had already regained 
the bank. 

‘‘Yes, she is saved,” said Jadwiga, as she knelt 
down beside the shivering, whimpering little 
bundle, and talking almost as solemnly as he ; “I 
shall never forget it.” 

“ It was a useless expenditure of valour — and of 
clothes,” remarked Malewicz, in an almost bitter 
tone, casting an indescribable glance at the lower 
portion of Wladimir’s recently so elegant attire. 
“ It would have been just as easy to pull her into 
the boat.” 

“Clothes cannot matter at moments like that,” 
replied Wladimir, and as he said it his eyes sought 


68 


ONE YEAR 


mine with a clearly triumphant glance which 
seemed to be saying : — Where is your theory of 
the wet feet now ? ’’ Was it indeed possible that 
this fascinating but puzzling young man had 
walked into the water, not only to please Jadwiga, 
but also in order to give me the lie ? At any rate, 
there could be no doubt that the honours of the 
day remained with him. 


CHAPTER V 


With as little delay as possible Anulka was 
got home and to bed, and the gay afternoon ended 
in a somewhat disturbed evening. She will be 
ill — I am quite sure she will be ill,” Jadwiga 
kept repeating, all the time she was rubbing the 
little creature down — what a meagre little lady it 
was out of its clothes — and plying her with hot 
tea ; but when she had been safely buried in blank- 
ets and her small teeth had at length ceased chat- 
tering, alarm gave way to relief. It really looked 
as though the dreaded chill had been averted, 
and the house resumed its normal physiognomy. 

We all went to our rooms rather earlier than 
usual that night, but I was scarcely in mine when 
the door opened, as it so often did now, and Jad- 
wiga said : — ‘‘ May I ? ” and then without awaiting 
permission, glided in and took up her usual station 
on the edge of my bed. This was quite an estab- 
lished thing now ; hardly an evening passed on 
which she did not wander in in her dressing-gown, 
her bare feet in slippers, her fingers busy plaiting 
up her hair. Anulka slept at the far end of the 
house, in her old nursery, under charge of the 
elderly woman who had been with her since her 


70 


ONE YEAR 


birth ; we had this wing almost to ourselves, Jad- 
wiga and I. This offered ideal opportunities for 
confidences, but until now she had apparently 
nothing to confide in me beyond her opinion on 
the last poem read, or some rather fantastical news 
of life in general. To-day it almost seemed as 
though something more definite were coming ; I 
could see it by the very silence which marked the 
first few minutes of her presence, and by the 
lights and shadows that chased each other over her 
expressive face. I was wondering whether she 
was going to speak at all when she said without 
preliminary : — 

‘‘ What would you do if you were me ? ” 

“ About what ? ” I asked, not guessing the drift 
of her question. 

‘‘ About those two men. I don’t think I am in- 
ordinately conceited in fancying that both care for 
me. 

You would need to be very blind not to see it,” 
I replied. 

Well, and what would you do ? ” 

Encourage the one I liked best.” 

“ That is exactly the difficulty,” said Jadwiga, 
beginning to laugh with a delicious helplessness ; 

I am not quite sure which I like best. Some- 
times I think it is the one and sometimes the 
other ; they both seem to me to have their 
points.” 


ONE YEAR 


71 


Which simply means that you don’t care for 
either properly, or at least not yet.” 

“ Oh, but I want to,” cried Jadwiga, with almost 
comical eagerness. I feel that I shall never be 
quite satisfied until I care for some one person very 
much, and I know that when once I begin I shall 
care more seriously than most people do. Perhaps 
it is this that has kept me back until now,” she 
added reflectively ; the sort of feeling that it 
would be dangerous to let myself go.” 

“ I should advise you to keep yourself back a 
little longer,” I remarked, ‘‘ until you know for 
certain in which direction you want to go.” 

“ No, no ! ” she said impatiently, “ it is time 
now. It is only when one has given one’s heart 
entirely to some one that one can speak of living a 
woman’s real life — and I want to give mine en- 
tirely. It is only that which can help one to un- 
derstand all the poems that have ever been written, 
it is that which explains all the music. I know I 
shall live a fuller and happier life when I have got 
one point round which to group all my thoughts, 
my hopes, my fears, my prayers. At present when 
I read a love-song of Heine’s I feel as though it 
were not written for me, and I want it to be writ- 
ten for me — I want to have a part in its beauty and 
in its pain. Each time I sing : ‘ Voi che sapete 
che cosa e amor,’ I feel ashamed, because I, too, 
am a woman, and do not yet know what love is. 


72 


ONE YEAR 


It is like worshipping at an altar without an idol 
on it. Oh, surely you must understand what I 
mean ? ” 

I could not say that I exactly did, never myself 
having had experience of this curious state of mind, 
but looking at Jadwiga’s shining eyes and glowing 
lips and at the heaving of the soft white frill that 
covered her beautiful breast, I dimly understood 
that all natures are not alike, and that to some 
women — perhaps I should rather say to the women 
of some nations — that sentiment of love is so great 
a necessity as to make the object on which it is 
expended of less vital importance than the fact of 
being able so to expend it. I have always thought 
that if I had not happened to know Henry I would 
never have wanted to love at all, but I am told that 
this is nonsense, and perhaps it is, and perhaps 
Jadwiga’s case is really the more normal of the 
two. 

‘‘You might have pity on my perplexity,” said 
Jadwiga with mock gravity. “ I tell you I have 
never had such difficulty in making up my mind.” 

“ You surely are not going to ask me to do so 
for you ? ” I inquired in alarm. 

Jadwiga began to laugh — at my distressed mien, 
I suppose. 

“Why not? You are older than I am, and at 
least ten times more sensible. The balance hangs 
quite even at present — at least I think it does — a 


ONE YEAR 


73 


word of yours will make it dip one way or the 
other. Out with it, then. Whom do you vote for 
— Wladimir or Krysztof ? ” 

She looked at me with audaciously laughing 
eyes, her head a little thrown back, her white throat 
displayed. It was evident that — the edge of the 
fright concerning Anulka once being over — her 
easily moved spirits had leapt up in reaction ; the 
triumphs of the afternoon had resumed their sway. 
She was joking, of course, and yet she was not 
only joking either. I verily do believe that on that 
evening she was standing at the cross-roads of her 
fate, inclined superficially to both of her suitors, 
but deeply as yet to neither, and in a state of mind 
which made it possible for her to fall in love with 
either of them, according as mere chance would 
decide. 

I think Wladimir would make the better lover 
of the two,” I reflectively replied, wishing to be 
conscientious even if it were only a joke — an 
ideal lover, but I can’t help fancying that the other 
would make a better husband.” 

That is as much as voting for Krysztof, since a 
husband lasts longer than a lover. 

Yes, if you insist on having my opinion that 
is the one I should recommend.” 

The recollection of Wladimir’s boyish smile 
and of that hour spent on the willow trunk 
made me feel rather ungrateful as I said it, and 


74 


ONE YEAR 


yet for the life of me I could not have done other- 
wise. 

What objection can you possibly have to Wlad- 
imir ? ’’ asked Jadwiga contradictiously. 

“ What objection can you have to Pan Male- 
wicz ? He is not so good-looking as his rival, 
but ’’ 

Oh, yes, he is good-looking, too, but Wladimir 
is beautiful.” 

It seems to me that my advice is not wanted,” 
I said, laughing. 

Yes, it is, it is,” she urged. Go on, please ; 
what was going to come after that ‘but ’ ? ” 

“ I only meant to say that if he would do proper 
justice to himself Pan Malewicz could not help be- 
ing a remarkably fine man, but he never seems to 
take time to eat, and scarcely to tie his boot laces, 
and that is what gives him that overdriven look.” 

Jadwiga made a little grimace. “You see that is 
one of the things. I have really no doubt of his 
worth, but I am not sure that I could pass my life 
with a man who wears his coats as long as Krys- 
ztof does. I know he is a model farmer and does 
wonders with what remains of the estate, but I do 
like a man to be turned out well, and not always to 
be talking of his potatoes and his turnips — when- 
ever he talks at all. If he were my husband I 
should not know to whom to rave about Chopin or 
Byron, since both poetry and music seem to be to 


ONE YEAR 


75 


him a sort of forbidden luxuries. There is noth- 
ing but work in his head *, work, work, work; how 
can that help making a man dull ? ” 

Does he work for himself alone ? ” I asked. 

For himself and his mother, and I suppose he 
works for her really more than for himself. Still, 
that does not make him a more amusing compan- 
ion.” 

But it throws another light on his manner of 
being,” I remarked. It shows that he can devote 
himself.” 

Don’t praise him too immoderately,” laughed 
Jadwiga, or you will be damaging his chances.” 

Well, decide for yourself, since it is evident 
that I cannot decide for you, but whichever way it 
is do not let them both go on hoping ; it is a cruel 
sort of kindness.” 

As I said it there came steps through the adjoin- 
ing room, and Anulka’s attendant put her head in 
at the door and said something in Polish to Jad- 
wiga. She was on her feet in an instant, white as 
death. 

“ What is it ? ” I asked. 

“ I told you how it would be,” said Jadwiga, ex- 
citedly. “ She is worse — Anulka. She awoke in 
high fever and they have sent for the doctor,” and, 
pushing the nurse to one side, she left the room. I 
followed in silence. In the old nursery at the end 
of the house we found a strange, shrunken figure in 


76 


ONE YEAR 


a limp white dressing-gown and a lace night-cap, 
sitting motionless beside the bed. The figure did 
not turn its head at our entrance, and it was not 
until I was close to the bed that I recognised Ma- 
dame Bielinska. Her large cavernous eyes never 
moved from Anulka’s face, and the habitual terror 
which dwelt in their depth seemed to have crept 
out of them and to have spread over the whole of 
her emaciated features. 

One glance at the ghastly face on the pillow 
showed that we had rejoiced too soon, and that the 
dreaded chill had, after all, not been averted. 
Anulka, her teeth chattering worse than ever, lay 
cowered up into herself, for the cold fit of the 
fever was upon her. 

There was little rest for the household after 
that. First there came the long anxious wait for 
the doctor, then the doctor himself, then the bustle 
produced by the carrying out of his prescriptions. 
It was long past midnight when Madame Bielinska 
allowed herself to be led back to her room. Jad- 
wiga refused to leave her sister, but fell asleep on 
a sofa in the corner of the nursery, exhausted with 
the various experiences of the day. Anulka her- 
self had dropped into an uneasy slumber, and to 
all intents and purposes I found myself alone with 
Mary a, the white-haired nurse, who gave no fur- 
ther vent to her feelings than by the utterance of 
portentously deep sighs, as she moved about the 


ONE YEAR 


77 


room, busy with compresses and basins and night- 
lights, and all the paraphernalia of a sick-room. 
Presently she came and sat down beside me, still 
sighing softly to herself. 

‘‘ Has she often been taken like this before? ” I 
asked in a whisper of my companion, for in the 
course of her lengthy career she had picked up 
enough German to make a sort of roughshod con- 
versation possible between us. 

Often, often,” replied old Marya with an 
extra deep sigh. “ I have thought to bury her ten 
times at least.” 

“ It is strange she should be so delicate when 
her sister appears to have such good health,” I re- 
marked. “It really was nothing of a chill to 
speak of — a mere mud bath, that was all.” 

The woman looked at me as though not sure 
whether to be indignant at my ignorance or com- 
passionate with it. 

“ Strange ? Would it not be stranger far if she 
had her sister’s health ? Poor mite, poor mite ! 
she has never had a chance. Her father himself 
took it from her. It is him she has to thank for 
that puny little face of hers and those narrow 
shoulders.” 

“ Her father ? ” I repeated in surprise. “ But 
to judge from his portrait he must have been a re- 
markably fine man, with anything but narrow 
shoulders.” 


78 


ONE YEAR 


Mary a laughed under her breath, and went on 
in her hoarse whisper : — 

“ Ah, so he was, so he was — it is not of what 
he was in life that I am speaking, but of what he 
was in death ; it is that which frightened our gra- 
cious lady to the point of bringing her to bed pre- 
maturely, and to make of her babe almost a cripple. 
Did you not know that she was a seven month 
child ? ” 

I felt now that I was close to that mystery 
which I had until now only vaguely suspected, that 
a question would probably be enough to disclose to 
me the history of the family, but I shrank from 
asking it of a servant, and apparently it did not 
occur to her to tell me more, probably because to 
her it was no mystery, but an open secret, known 
to every child within ten miles of Ludniki. This 
very publicity it was which kept me from knowing 
it, every one taking for granted that I had heard 
the truth already from some other person. 

We relapsed into silence, and presently Mary a 
left the room to fetch some article required. As 
the door softly closed I saw Anulka’s fever-bright 
eyes opening wide. The heat fit was upon her 
now, as I could see by the streak of scarlet on her 
cheeks. 

I was not asleep,” she said with a grotesquely 
sly smile on her burning face. I heard you and 
Marya talking, but she did not tell you everything. 


ONE YEAR 


79 


Shall I tell it you ? Come here and I will whis- 
per/’ 

She stretched out one of her thin arms, and 
clutching hold of the sleeve of my dressing-gown, 
pulled my head down to the pillow beside her. 

Papa was mad,” she said in my ear, upon 
which I could feel her dry breath like that of a 
furnace. I never saw him, but Marya told me 
he was mad, and so did Jadwiga, so it must be 
true. Have you ever seen a mad person ? ” 

Lie still,” I urged, trying to speak calmly, al- 
though painfully impressed. “ The doctor said 
you were not to talk,” and I gently disengaged my- 
self from her arm. Anulka stared at me in si- 
lence, with wide uncomprehending eyes which 
seemed to have lost the sense of my identity. 

When I got back to my room the owls had 
ceased to scream in the bushes that grew close 
against the windows, and the birds were beginning 
to stir, for daylight was near. I lay down on my 
bed, but what uneasy slumber I snatched was 
crossed and intercrossed by confused and phantas- 
mal dreams of the muddy pond, the wading peas- 
ants, the dripping Anulka, with a mad father hov- 
ering somewhere in the background, but always 
vanishing each time I tried to examine him more 
closely. 


CHAPTER VI 


‘‘Ludniki, November 30th, 188 — . 

“ My dear Agnes, — I have got the ^vhole story 
at last, and a ghastly enough story it is, but it 
leaves me as puzzled as ever. There is a mystery 
behind the mystery — to my mind, at least — and 
w^hich seems to me ten times more bewildering 
than the thing I have discovered. But in order to 
explain how I came to discover it I must tell you 
of one of the most exciting experiences that has 
ever come my way. 

I think I told you that our little convalescent is 
always springing the most exotic wishes upon us, 
which have to be fulfilled on penalty of a relapse, 
brought on by sheer irritation. Well, the other 
day she was seized with the desire of — can you 
guess what ? No, of course you can’t — of a 
cigarette. She has smoked some surreptitiously it 
seems, and so ecstatically enjoyed the forbidden 
fruit that its recollection came over her, like a 
craving, the other afternoon. Great consternation 
in the house ; nobody knew exactly what to do ; 
torn between the fear of harming her by either an 
acquiescence or a refusal — and the chances seemed 
about equal — everybody began by losing their 


ONE YEAR 


8i 


heads. Marya, having spent half an hour in use- 
less argument, came running in distress to Jadwiga, 
Jadwiga came to me for advice. I sent her to her 
mother, from whom she came back more be- 
wildered than ever, for Madame Bielinska had 
given up deciding things so long ago, that she has 
forgotten how to do it. It was finally I who had 
to speak the last word. Of course I decided 
against the cigarette, and, of course, every one 
instantly turned upon me. Could I really take 
upon me the responsibility of the precious darling 
fretting herself into a fever? ^Well, then, give 
it her, in Heaven’s name ! ’ I said desperately, 
‘ since you are so certain it will kill her not to 
have it.’ ‘ But supposing it does her harm ? 
Do you really think it will do her harm ? ’ I 
returned that, not being a doctor, I could be sure 
of nothing. Then a simple solution struck me : 
‘ Why not send to Doctor Kouski and put the 
case before him ? Clearly it is his business to 
decide.’ This meant a delay of at least two 
hours, but, after an excited debate, and after 
Jadwiga had with tears in her eyes implored her 
sister to be patient for just a little longer, the pro- 
posal was adopted. 

‘ I will write a note to Doctor Kouski,’ said 
Jadwiga, ‘and beg him to be lenient.’ 

“ ‘ But supposing Doctor Kouski is not at home ? ’ 
objected Anulka fretfully. 


82 


ONE YEAR 


‘‘^Then Jan must, of course, go to Doctor 
Lanicz.’ 

Jan was the coachman who was to go on horse- 
back. 

Jan is so stupid,’ said Anulka, ^ he is sure to 
make a mess of it, and to come back without an 
answer. Couldn’t some one else go ? Some one 
who could explain it all to him ? ’ 

‘ It is too cold for Marya, or else we might have 
sent the sledge,’ Jadwiga was beginning, when I 
had a second idea. 

‘ Let me go ! ’ I said with alacrity, for the pros- 
pect of a sledge drive to Zloczek was strangely 
enticing. Perhaps it will astonish you to hear me 
talking of sledges already, but I forgot to explain 
that we have jumped almost at one bound from 
after-summer to mid-winter. The fine weather 
had lasted till past the middle of this month — only 
the air growing a little keener every day and the 
sky of a fainter blue, and then one night a vague 
moan was heard in the distance, and presently grew 
into a howl, and next morning the view was veiled 
by a whirl of snowflakes. For three days it was 
impossible to take a step outside the house ; even 
the servants had to shovel their way before them 
across the yard and arrived in the kitchen with 
clumps of snow on their hats. We lived in a sort 
of semi-darkness, and verily believed we were 
going to be buried alive. Then on the fourth 


ONE YEAR 


83 


morning an equally abrupt change : a cloudless sun 
rising on a transformed world ; everything, as far 
as the eye could see, of a dazzling white ; the trees 
no longer trees but branches of white coral, 
immaculate cushions of snow on the window 
ledges, the top of the park wall padded with snow 
and apparently powdered over with diamond dust. 
After my three days’ imprisonment I was gasping 
for air ; you can imagine with what zeal I offered 
myself as messenger. After a little more debate I 
was accepted, and, laden with injunctions and fur 
rugs, I set forth on my first sledge drive, promising 
to be back in the smallest possible time. But 
in the event Anulka had to wait much longer 
for her cigarette than either she or I had bargained 
for. 

I wish I could give you even a faint idea of the 
beauty of that drive and of its exhilaration, or could 
make you see the almost painful brilliancy of that 
vast plain of virgin snow, as yet untrodden by any 
foot, unmarked by any vehicle, and on which we 
carved out our way for ourselves, as a ship does 
upon the ocean — its whiteness broken only by the 
blue shadows of solitary trees. And everything on 
which you attempted to rest your dazzled eyes was 
equally fatiguing to look upon — the huts were not 
thatched with straw to-day, but with snow ; the 
pollard willows which grew in the palings wore 
white snow-caps upon their clumsy round heads, 


84 


ONE YEAR 


and even the beams of the draw-wells were thick- 
ened to twice their natural size by the ridges of 
snow they bore. If the drive had lasted four hours 
instead of one I could not have tired of observing 
the work of the last three days. We were not yet 
half way to Zloczek, however, when I began to be 
aware of an indefinable change in the atmosphere. 
Until then the air had been motionless, though 
keen, but gradually I began to feel its edge grow 
sharper in my face, while it piped more shrilly past 
my ear. I had just observed this when Jan turned 
on the box and said something to me, which, of 
course, I did not understand. He pointed forward 
with his whip at the same time, and I now per- 
ceived that the blue vault of the sky which had 
been so uniform half an hour ago was covered in 
the west by a whitish grey cloud mass, so compact 
and so clean cut at the edges that it looked like 
nothing so much as a vast round hood, gradually 
mounting higher. It had not yet reached the sun, 
which still shone in undisturbed brilliancy, but was 
creeping nearer to it every moment. I had been 
so busy looking about me at the wonders of this 
white world that I had had no time to glance ahead. 
Evidently this was a fresh instalment of the snow- 
storm which had lasted three days, a sort of after- 
thought, as though the Ice King had repented of 
having let us off so cheap. ‘ Well, we are going 
to have another shower,’ I thought to myself, 


ONE YEAR 


85 


smiling a little at Jan’s evident anxiety. Zloczek 
lay somewhere between us and the monstrous snow- 
hood, and from the way he began to lash out at the 
horses it was evident that he was making every 
effort to get there before the snow began. It was 
a sort of race between us and that cloud, although 
each was coming from a different direction. At 
first it seemed as though we were going to win — it 
was the brilliancy of the sunshine that deceived us 
— but soon the increased current of air warned us 
of the approach of the enemy. The grey mantle 
drew over the sky with amazing rapidity ; the 
church spire of Zloczek, which had already been 
clearly visible, first disappeared behind it, then I 
missed a clump of trees I had been observing — one 
landmark after another was blotted out, until sud- 
denly in one moment the sun was gone, as abruptly 
as a candle blown out, and leaving us in what, by 
contrast with the recent brilliancy, seemed almost 
like darkness. At the same instant the cold became 
deadly, and, looking past Jan’s shoulder, I said 
aloud instinctively : ^ Good gracious ! what is 

that ? ’ forgetting that he could not understand me 
— for a wall seemed rushing upon us, a white, 
wild-looking wall, with a furious face and a raging 
voice that struck terror into my heart even before 
I realised what there was to fear from it. At the 
same moment the sledge gave a violent jerk ; I saw 
that Jan was pulling round the horses, and wondered 


86 


ONE YEAR 


vaguely whether he had gone mad, for he was also 
making frantic signs to me with the flat of his left 
hand. In the next moment he had checked the 
horses sharply, and, throwing down the reins, had 
flung himself face foremost on the back of one of 
them. And after that I had not time to observe 
anything more, for I was gasping for breath and 
fighting with the wind for my head covering, for 
that white wall was upon us. I cannot tell you 
what a real Polish snowstorm looks like seen at 
close quarters, for to open my eyes was as impossible 
to me as to lift my head. Instinctively I crouched 
to the bottom of the sledge — I knew not what Jan 
had meant by that frantic pantomime — and as I did 
so I could feel the lightly-built thing shuddering 
through each wooden member under the onslaught 
of the hurricane. For one moment it seemed verily 
as though it must lift us from our place. I could 
not exactly say how I expected to be killed — 
whether by sheer cold, or breathlessness, or by 
suffocation under the snow, but I remember having 
felt as though it could surely not be possible to 
come out of this alive. I cannot tell you either 
how long it lasted, if it was really only ten minutes, 
as I have since been assured, then they were cer- 
tainly the longest ten minutes I have known in my 
life — each minute was a terror in itself, and yet there 
was also a mild sort of exhilaration about it which 
was a better support than all my fur coverings. I 


ONE YEAR 


87 


■am not sure even that there w'as not a little regret 
mingled with the real relief I felt when I became 
aware that the climax had been passed. As soon 
as my breath began to come more easily I cautiously 
looked up and immediately received a fresh shower 
of snow upon my face, that which had accumulated 
on my head during the past minutes. Just at first 
I imagined that somehow I was no longer in the 
sledge, for to the right and to the left of me the 
snow was on a level with my elbows, completely 
masking the woodwork on all sides. The snow- 
flakes still flew past us, but growing thinner every 
instant, while ahead of us the landscape was wiped 
out by the retreating snow-cloud. The horses 
stood with drooping heads, trembling in every 
limb, up to their bellies in snow, with the scared, 
yet submissive look of chastised creatures. Jan, a 
prostrate man of snow, still lay motionless, but 
presently raised himself slowly and turned toward 
me, as though to see if I were still alive. We 
looked at each other in silence, no words were 
necessary, nor would have been wanted, even with 
better means of communication. Of course, he 
had gone through this sort of thing before, and I 
had not, which no doubt made him the calmer of 
the two at this moment, in contradistinction to my 
foolish calmness of ten minutes ago. 

“ I will skip the next hour or so, which was spent 
partly in shouting for help and partly (by me) in 


88 


ONE YEAR 


waiting for it, for Jan had ended by wading off 
waist-deep in snow toward the first houses of 
Zloczek, not more than a quarter of a mile distant. 
He returned heading a party of men with spades, 
and presently the half-frozen horses dragged us 
slowly into Zloczek. The sun was actually out 
again by this time, although near to setting, and 
the remnant of the snow-cloud fast disappearing on 
the horizon. On the whole, I was agreeably sur- 
prised by my first view of Zloczek, which had 
been described to me as ^ a dirty hole full of Jews.’ 
How much the snow had to answer for I don’t 
know, of course, but my impression of the long, 
wide street and the big, square market-place was 
not unfavourable, perhaps partly because they were 
empty — of Jews as well as of anything else, for 
every one was still safe behind doors and windows. 
The panic of the last half-hour was still written 
plainly over everything, and, although it was still 
broad daylight, the bells of our sledge rang out in 
an almost unbroken silence, as though in a town 
of the dead. 

I confess I was glad to find myself under the 
doctor’s roof, and only when good little Madame 
Kouska had pulled the gloves off my numb fingers 
and unbuttoned my sealskin for me did I realise 
how very nearly I had been frozen to death. I was 
greeted with exclamations and overwhelmed with 
questions, but at the same time entreated not to 


ONE YEAR 


89 


answer them and neither to stir out of the roomy 
armchair into which I had been almost forcibly 
pushed nor to fatigue myself with speaking until I 
had swallowed at least three glasses of hot tea. At 
the third glass I began to be aware that my blood 
was again circulating and, with reviving senses, re- 
membered my actual errand. But scarcely had I 
explained and expressed a wish for a speedy settle- 
ment of the question, than Madame Kouska 
laughed in my face. ‘ One sees you are a stranger 
here,’ she gleefully exclaimed. ‘ Do you actually 
imagine that you will get back to Ludniki to-night ? 
Not even a maniac would think of it. Of course 
you will have to sleep here, whether you like it or 
not, and if you don’t like it, it will be a proper 
punishment for not having visited me yet — Provi- 
dence is on my side, you see. Besides, my hus- 
band is not at home, and will not be for two days 
more, so you can’t ask your question.’ 

“ ‘ But Anulka will go into a fever if she does 
not get her cigarette,’ I said in distress. Upon 
which Madame Kouska assured me that Anulka 
would be sure to be so frightened about me that 
she would not even think of her cigarette. The 
snowstorm was quite certain to have put it out of 
her head, and everybody at Ludniki knew too well 
what a snowstorm was to think of expecting me 
back that night. 

‘‘ I protested vigorously, and it was not until I 


90 


ONE YEAR 


had from Jan’s pantomime understood the utter 
unfeasibility of getting through the snowdrifts that 
night that I resigned myself to my fate. 

Except for my qualms regarding Anulka, it really 
was not a hard fate, for my dark-eyed little hostess 
was evidently brimming over with gratification at 
having captured me thus unawares, and presently 
proceeded with great delight to show me over the 
house. The children I had been seeing ever since 
my arrival — three or four sturdy, but somewhat 
grimy looking little mites, who kept climbing on to 
their mother’s knee, and rolling off again, and 
bumping their heads, and howling, and getting con- 
soled, and poking their fingers into her eyes, with- 
out ever succeeding in disturbing her equanimity. 
She is one of those happy people who seem to be 
pleased with everything. ‘ This is my store-room,’ 
she said to me with conscious pride, opening the 
door of a small closet off the dining-room, so 
placed that somebody has to get up from table each 
time that something is wanted out of it. In the 
store-room I caught sight of a pleasing mixture of 
dress-baskets, empty bottles, flour sacks, soap and 
candles, together with a sprinkling of baby linen 
hung up to dry. /should have called it a superior 
sort of dusthole, but she called it a store-room, and 
was evidently happy in its possession ; and there- 
fore to be envied, I suppose. The rest of the 
house was to match, but, indeed, I feel almost 


ONE YEAR 


91 


wicked in causing you to smile over these things, 
for what can empty bottles and broken mouse-traps 
and even spider-webs matter when they are coupled 
with so much true kindness of heart ; and what is 
the odds of the sideboard having to stand in the 
nursery, because of there being no room for it in 
the dining-room, so long as there is no false shame 
about the matter ? It was delightfully unconven- 
tional to be waited on by a barefooted peasant girl, 
and there was something refreshingly natural in the 
open and above-board way in which the best china 
and the ‘ company spoons ’ were dealt out in my 
honour as well as in my presence. Perhaps my 
tastes are changing, but I can assure you that all 
the comparisons I made that evening between this 
and the more correct forms of entertainment I had 
hitherto been used to, turned out to the disadvan- 
tage of the latter. 

It was not until we had had our supper and the 
children had been put to bed that the conversation 
became interesting. Despite my partiality for Ma- 
dame Kouska I must admit that her range of topics 
is limited, varying principally between babies and 
frocks, and mingled with a good many confessions 
touching the incorrigible frivolity of the speaker. 
‘ I am afraid I am amusing you very badly,’ she 
said at least ten times that evening, ‘ but I don’t 
know how to talk of anything except balls and 
fashions.’ Nevertheless I mistrust the genuine- 


92 


ONE YEAR 


ness of that absolute frivolity she claims — one 
thing which leads me to do so is the observation 
that she dotes on her children, sleeps in a room 
with three babies, feeds the youngest one on her 
knee at table, can’t enter the nursery without see- 
ing at once who has been crying and who has not, 
and in general leads the life of a dog at home, 
though seen out of it no one would guess this 
smiling model of fashion had any interest higher 
than her dress. There are also strong grounds for 
suspicion that she possesses several housewifely 
virtues, and is as practical about pickling cabbages 
as about making ruches. 

But to return to this particular conversation. 
We were sitting alone in the little sitting-room, 
with the albums on the table and the paper flowers 
in the vases — tout comme che% nous,^ as you see. 
The small, middle-class apartment with the wood 
fire crackling in the stove felt wonderfully snug 
after my experiences of the afternoon, and a gentle 
drowsiness was beginning to steal over my senses 
when Madame Kouska startled me by saying : — 
‘Tell me, are you not afraid of ghosts in that big 
house over there ? ’ I replied drowsily that I was 
not, and had not even heard that the house was 
supposed to be haunted. ‘ Neither have I,’ she 
replied, ‘ but it ought to be, if ever any house 
was. That Ludniki should not have a ghost 
of its own is enough to make one disbelieve 


ONE YEAR 


93 


in ghosts altogether — surely you must confess 
that ? ’ 

‘‘ ‘ How can I without knowing the reason ? ’ I 
said. ‘ I have, indeed, noticed that there is a 
room which the servants don’t like entering after 
dark, but they have not told me why, and I would 
not understand if they did.’ 

‘ Well, surely that is comprehensible,’ said my 
hostess, with a little shiver. ‘ I know that nothing 
would induce me to go into that room after eight 
in the evening.’ 

‘ Has anything particular happened there ? ’ I 
asked, still a little sleepily. 

Madame Kouska’s looks betrayed undisguised 
amazement. 

‘ But surely you know,’ she persisted. ^ It 
can’t be that you don’t know — living in the 
house.’ 

^ No, I don’t know,’ I said, a little impatiently, 
I think, ‘ and exactly because I am living in the 
house ; though I am always hearing hints dropped 
and catching half remarks which I don’t know 
how to interpret. If you know and if it is no 
secret I wish you would tell me once for all, so as 
to let me feel a little less foolish when the matter 
is alluded to.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Then you know absolutely nothing about Pan 
Bielinski’s death ? ’ she asked, still amazed. 

^ Nothing,’ I said. 


94 


ONE YEAR 


“ ‘ You don’t know that he was a murderer ? ’ 

I think I must have jumped on my chair, for 
she put out her hand as though to soothe me. 

‘ I don’t believe it,’ I said instinctively, and 
merely because I loved Jadwiga. 

‘ How strange you should not know,’ was all 
she said, and yet it is comprehensible, for of 
course the family would not speak of it. I will 
tell you if you wish — it is no secret, since every 
one here knows it. It happened nearly eleven 
years ago — it will be eleven years in spring — just 
after we married — you wouldn’t take me to be 
thirty, would you ? — Bazyli — that is my husband 
— was the Bezirh Arzt (doctor appointed by Gov- 
ernment) then, as he is still, and of course was in 
the middle of it all, in his official capacity. It 
was a terrible beginning for me, and gave me a 
painfully vivid idea of a doctor’s experiences.’ 

^^And then she gave me the following facts in a 
somewhat sprawling and not always clear shape — 
for her French is distinctly ricketty — and which I 
find easier to condense into my own words. 

“ It appears then that eleven years ago — come the 
next iith of April — a wandering monk had come 
to the Ludniki house toward evening. He was 
one of those begging friars who travel about the 
country for weeks at a time, collecting alms for 
the poor. All their journeys are done on foot, and 
this one, too, had come alone and unattended. In 


ONE YEAR 


95 


Poland, the land of universal hospitality, it stands 
to reason that these holy mendicants are received 
w^ith open arms, and Pan Bielinski did not fall 
short of what was expected of him in this respect. 
He was alone at home, his wife and little girl — 
Jadwiga was then eight years old — having gone to 
Limberg for some days (to the dentist, I should 
risk guessing), and being expected home next morn- 
ing. The friar was received, not at the back door, 
but at the front, and, as a matter of course, sat at 
the table of his host. The servants who waited on 
the tete-a-tete meal afterward deposed that there 
had been a great deal of excited talk between host 
and guest, none of which they could, however, 
understand, as it was not conducted in Polish. In 
all probability it was French, as after circumstances 
showed. The discussion — if it was a discussion — 
was continued in the drawing-room until a late 
hour, after which the friar retired to the room 
which had been prepared for him. At break of 
day next morning he was to continue his journey. 
Pan Bielinski in person conducted him to the house 
door, and there bent his head to receive his parting 
blessing. All this was in strict accordance with 
usage ; but after that he did something quite un- 
expected. At the very moment that the friar’s 
bare, sandalled foot was in the act of crossing the 
threshold he took a revolver out of his pocket and 
shot him straight through the head \ then, before 


96 


ONE YEAR 


the servants standing by had time to collect their 
senses, he turned, walked back into his own room, 
and put a second ball into his own brain. He 
must have been a first-rate shot, for he seems to 
have killed both his man and himself instanta- 
neously. 

^ They were both still lying exactly as they had 
fallen when nay husband and the judge arrived at 
the house two hours later,’ said Madame Kouska, 
at this point of the narrative, her pretty face pale 
with the revival of the awful recollection. ‘ An- 
drej, the old footman, had sense enough left to for- 
bid any one to touch them before the appearance 
of the authorities. Bazyli says it was the most 
awful sight he has ever seen, and yet he has seen a 
good many. In the open house door, exactly on 
the threshold, which was splashed over with his 
blood, the monk sat as though cowering on the 
ground, with his back propped against the door- 
post. In his left hand he clutched his rosary, his 
right arm stretched out, and the forefinger extended, 
as though he were pointing at something ; his eyes 
were wide open. In the first moment it seemed as 
though he must be still alive, but soon Bazyli saw 
that the finger was quite stiff and that the eyes 
were broken. He says the other body was worse 
to look at, for Pan Bielinski had fired into his 
mouth, and in consequence of the concussion the 
skull was smashed and the muzzle of the revolver 


ONE YEAR 


97 


looked out at the top of his head. Oh, it makes 
me quite sick to think of it even now, although I 
only heard it described,’ and the little woman 
covered her eyes, shivering. 

‘‘ ‘ But Madame Bielinska ? ’ I asked aghast, with 
a swift recollection of what Marya had said, 
‘ surely she did not see.’ 

‘‘‘Yes, she did,’ said my hostess. ‘The car- 
riage had been already sent to the station during 
the night, and in the flurry every one forgot about 
her, and she walked straight into the house while 
the commission was verifying the facts, with that 
darling Jadwiga by her side, past the dead monk, 
and found her husband just as I have described. 
She very nearly died of it, poor thing, and of 
course Jadwiga will never forget.’ 

“ ‘ I should think not,’ I said, and I remembered 
that Jadwiga had used almost those very words her- 
self the first time I had unwittingly alluded to her 
father. No wonder her natural communicative- 
ness halted before that terrible subject, which surely 
must have haunted her childish recollection like a 
spectre, and no wonder too that Madame Bielinska 
should bear the reflection of an undying fright in 
her eyes ! 

“ ‘ But the sequel ? ’ I asked. ‘ How was it 
cleared up ? What was his motive ? ’ 

“ ‘ There is no sequel,’ Madame Kouska told me, 
‘ and the only explanation is, of course, that he 


98 


ONE YEAR 


went suddenly mad, poor man. He used to be 
very gay in his youth, and even rather wild, but in 
after years he showed symptoms of melancholy, 
and grew more nervous and irritable year by year.’ 

“ ‘ Still that does not seem to explain such a des- 
perate act,’ I objected. ‘Were there no re- 
searches made ? ’ ^ 

“ ‘ Oh, yes,’ she said, ‘ but there was nothing to 
be discovered, except that the friar was a French- 
man, but nobody knew him, or anything of him, 
nor where he came from exactly, and beside, there 
was nobody to be punished for the murder, since 
the murderer had dealt with himself, so really the 
authorities had no further cause to act.’ 

“ ‘ And his friends ? ’ I asked, ‘ did they also ac- 
cept the theory of the madness ? ’ 

“ ‘ They had to. Just at first a few people broke 
their heads over it and expected some explanation 
to follow, but when time passed and nothing fol- 
lowed, they began to be of the opinion of every- 
body else.’ 

“ ‘ Even his family ? ’ I asked. 

“ Madame Kouska shrugged her shoulders. ‘ Ap- 
parently even his family,’ she said. ‘ The dead 
monk was as much a stranger to them as to the 
rest of us. Madame Bielinska herself told my 
husband that she had never seen his face before, 
and by all accounts it was not a face to be easily 
forgotten — a dark, fiery face, with piercing black 


ONE YEAR 


99 


eyes, and a coal-black beard just beginning to be 
streaked with white. Bazyli said to me then that 
the very gesture in the act of which he had died 
somehow gave an impression of quite unusual 
mental energy.’ 

This is the story, Agnes, but somehow I feel 
my doubts as to their theory, and have been trying 
to buijd myself up another. Men do not usually 
go mad quite so suddenly as this, and if they do, 
it generally is not strangers they go for. But sup- 
posing that monk was not a stranger to Pan 
Bielinski, although he was to every one else ? 
That is the starting-point of my theory. One 
does not generally discuss excitedly with strangers, 
does one ? He was a Frenchman, remember, and 
Pan Bielinski had spent part of his youth in Paris, 
and, according to what Madame Kouska tells me, 
the servants all received the impression of his be- 
ing a gentleman. How if some long-buried ro- 
mance were at the bottom of it all ? May these two 
not have been rivals once upon a time ? All the 
circumstances seem to point to some bitter grudge 
borne by Pan Bielinski against his chance guest. 

Yet other theories occurred to me as I lay wide- 
awake in the excellent bed to which Madame 
Kouska conducted me. I had been dropping with 
sleep after supper, but the picture of the dead 
monk and of his murderer had effectually banished all 
traces of drowsiness, and so I amused myself by 


100 


ONE YEAR 


combining. Yet, on the whole, my first theory 
seems to me most plausible, and I mean to stick to 
it for my own private satisfaction. Every one else 
seems content with the version of insanity, but I 
prefer my supposition. Madame Bielinska never 
can have been beautiful ; let us say that Pan 
Bielinski’s marriage was one ‘ of reason,’ while 
the real attachment of his life had Paris for its 
scene and was, of course, of an unhappy de- 
scription, the disappointment shadowing all his life 
and causing the melancholy which Madame 
Kouska speaks of ; that the subsequent friar was 
the ci-devant successful rival, who, having betrayed 
and abandoned the object of their mutual passion, 
had turned into a repentant sinner ; that Bielinski, 
on seeing him again unexpectedly, could not re- 
strain the impulse to avenge his own defeat and the 
girl’s dishonour. 

But I had better stop, or else you will think that 
my imagination is bolting with me. I wonder if 
the truth will ever be known ? I hardly think so. 
It remains for me only to wind up this indecently 
long scrawl by telling you that, despite both the 
snowdrifts and Madame Kouska’s constraining 
hospitality — and it was as difficult to get away 
from the one as from the other — I succeeded in 
reaching home next day, and was relieved to find 
that Anulka had managed after all to get her cigar- 
ette by bribing Marya (with a holy picture), and 


ONE YEAR 


101 


was none the worse for it. I must confess that as 
we drove up to the house I cast a glance of a 
quite new sort of interest toward the spot at which 
I knew the old front door to have been, and whose 
condemnation I now completely understood. To 
a Polish mind the thought of that desecrated 
threshold, stained by the blood of the departing 
guest, must always remain a blot of ignominy. 
No wonder indeed that the family should not have 
been able to make up its mind ever again to cross 
it. 

My candle is burning down, I have barely light 
to finish by. 

Ever your affectionate 

Eleanor.” 


CHAPTER VII 


My last quoted letter to Agnes has been given 
v^ithout either selection or comment, but, of course, 
it does not exhaust my reflections on the discovery 
I had made. It is probable that the details of Ma- 
dame Kouska’s story would have kept my imagina- 
tion yet easier if it had not been for a letter which 
I received about this time from my friend, and in 
which she mentioned that Henry and Lily Somer- 
ville were going to spend Christmas in the same 
house. Agnes had been more than surprised, she 
had been honestly shocked at what she called the 

barbarism ’’ of the act which had separated me 
from my lover, and, despite my stern command 
never lost an opportunity of keeping me informed 
of what was going on at home. She gave me this 
latest news with a tremour of desperation which I 
could trace in her very handwriting. ‘‘ There 
would yet be time for you to be back,’’ she added ; 
“ if you give up your situation at once you could 
still spend Christmas with us — and naturally so 
would Henry.” 

Of course, I never for a moment contemplated 
acting in this suggestion, but I confess that the 
news had made my heart beat faster. For weeks 
102 


ONE YEAR 


IQ3 

past I had been living in expectation of hearing 
that the engagement was accomplished ; I had been 
away now for two months ; time enough for the 
cure to have worked. Surely the moment was ap- 
proaching now. To judge from his silence Henry 
was either tired of me or angry with me, and I 
knew the opportunities generally afforded by a 
Christmas party ; it was far better so, but I should 
feel quieter and more able to settle to my work 
when something definite had happened. 

Here, too, Christmas was already lying in the 
air, but a different sort of Christmas from any I 
had hitherto known — one in which holly and mis- 
tletoe played no part, and plum pudding and mince 
pies were replaced by such delicacies as fish fried 
in honey, cold almond soup and cakes filled with 
chopped cabbage. The memory of the single 
Polish Vilia which it has ever been my fate to at- 
tend, remains in my mind as a sort of culinary 
nightmare, sufficient to make me for ever after 
thankful for plain food. It is natural that the prep- 
arations for this huge feast which, in that part of 
the country, was still conducted after the most 
generously patriarchal style, should likewise be 
huge, and perhaps it is equally natural that these 
vast arrangements should be used by the young 
people as a pretext for sociable gatherings. For 
generations past it had been the custom here for 
near neighbours to lend each other a helping hand 


104 


ONE YEAR 


on occasions of this sort. There was a certain 
amount of system about the thing ; each house in 
the neighbourhood having one day that was fixed 
as markday,” on which any one who had time 
and inclination was requested to step in and spend 
the afternoon in shelling almonds or stoning raisins 
in company, or at least in pretending to do so, for, 
of course, the excellent opportunities for flirtation 
afforded by these simple occupations were not neg- 
lected, and had the less chance of being so among 
young men and women who had known each other 
since their babyhood. 

Needless to say that the Ludniki “ markday ” 
was better attended than any other in the neigh- 
bourhood ; was it not presided over by Jadwiga ? 
The young men came because she was there, and 
the ladies came because they did not dare to leave 
them entirely to her, and the result was that one 
dull December day a large and gay society found 
itself assembled in the big space adjoining the 
kitchen, which generally played the part of a serv- 
ants’ hall. From the first the scene was a lively 
one. Having peeled themselves out of their furs, 
the ladies began by quarrelling over the white aprons 
distributed for the protection of the dainty winter 
gowns, for although every one was regularly re- 
quested to come in their worst clothes, no one ever 
had the abnegation to do so. Then came the al- 
lotment of occupations — a wide field for showing 


ONE YEAR 


105 


favour. I confess I was rather curious as to how 
Jadwiga would exercise her authority. Owing first 
to Anulka’s illness, and lately to Madame Bielin- 
ska’s state of health, which anxiety had aggravated, 
there had been next to no visitors in the house for 
weeks past. Since the day that she had consulted 
me as to her choice between her two admirers I 
had not seen her in the same room with them, and 
had therefore had no opportunity of judging of 
whether she had come to a decision or not. To- 
day my doubts were to be put at rest. 

I may peel the almonds, may I not ? ” Wladi- 
mir had asked at the very outset. He had been 
among the first arrivals, and had looked wonder- 
fully handsome as he stepped out of the sledge, his 
fair cheek brightly flushed with the cold air and 
half buried in the costly fur of his cloak. “ You 
know I peeled them last year, and I am sure I did 
it well.” 

“ I know why Wladimir wants to peel the al- 
monds,” remarked a fair and fuzzy-haired young 
lady, one of a pair of fair and fuzzy-haired sisters, 
who seemed to regard the whole thing as one vast 
opportunity for giggling ; it’s because the almonds 
are in hot water, and he can warm his finger-tips 
while fishing them out ; as if we hadn’t all got 
cold fingers ! Just look at the egoism of men ! ” 

Oh, dear me, Pani Jusia, are your fingers 
really cold ? ” asked Wladimir, with most sincere 


io6 


ONE YEAR 


concern. Then, of course, I waive my claim to 
the almonds. Here is the pot. Pani Jadwiga will 
give me some other occupation ; I am prepared for 
anything.” 

“ Even to grind the chocolate ? ” asked the sec- 
ond of the giggling sisters. “You know it makes 
the fingers brown,” and she cast a half admiring, 
half mocking glance toward Wladimir’s white, 
carefully tended hands. 

“ Even to grind the chocolate or to pound the 
pepper, for the matter of that,” said Wladimir 
magnanimously. I know that none of the ladies 
like pounding the pepper for fear of getting it into 
their eyes — well, I am ready to do it ; may I, Pani 
Jadwiga ? ” He looked round him with the air of 
a person who feels that he is doing something at 
least creditable. 

“No,” laughed Jadwiga, “we shall save the 
pepper for somebody more tiresome ; it will be an 
excellent excuse for sending him into a corner of 
the room, don’t you see? ” and she laughed mis- 
chievously. “ Here, you can help me to peel the 
apples instead.” Apples can be peeled without in- 
jury to even the daintiest fingers, and I half suspect 
my lovely Jadwiga of a little egoism in her choice 
of occupation, for she certainly watched over her 
exquisite hands as a mother does over her babes. 
At her words Wladimir had flushed with pleasure. 
He was as little able as a child to conceal his feel- 


ONE YEAR 


107 

ings, and gratification at the compliment implied 
now shone out of his brown eyes. 

In a few minutes more every one was occupied, 
more or less strenuously, around a long deal table, 
on which pyramids of raisins and almonds, blocks 
of chocolate, and whole sugar loaves were dis- 
posed. It looked verily as though we were prepar- 
ing a meal for an army, or, at least, a giant. 
Tongues moved of course, at least as fast as 
fingers, and seriousness had little part in the work ; 
were there not the clumsy to mark, the ignorant to 
^ instruct, and the greedy to unmask ? For, of 
course, despite the prospect of the excellent tea 
which was to rest the labourers from their toils, 
many of the almonds and raisins never found their 
way into the vessels destined for them, and a handy 
lump of chocolate frequently proved itself to be 
irresistible. What between laughing reprimands, 
feigned anger, and mock exclamations of distress, 
mingled with a good deal of giggling, the first hour 
passed in a very lively fashion. 

Our number had swelled to close upon twenty, 
when, after a longer pause than hitherto, another 
sledge was heard driving up to the front of the 
house. 

‘‘Who can it be?” asked Wladimir; “not 
Krysztof, surely ? ” 

“Not he ! ” laughed Jadwiga, “ our occupations 
are far too frivolous for him. I remember his 


io8 


ONE YEAR 


saying last year that we were only playing at 
work.’’ 

But it was Malewicz, after all. As he entered 
the room, a minute later, looking somewhat 
pinched about the eyes and mouth — for he had no 
such luxurious fur to wrap himself in as had 
Wladimir — a chorus of astonished voices greeted 
him. 

Can it be possible ? ” 

“You have actually managed to tear yourself 
away from your threshing machine ? ” 

“ What ! another holiday ? ” 

“ You don’t mean, surely, that you, too, are go- 
ing to play at work ? ” asked Jadwiga, looking at 
him a little doubtfully, as though not quite sure of 
whether or not she was glad to see him. 

“ Playing at work is better than no work at all,” 
replied Malewicz quietly, as he saluted Jadwiga; 

and just now there is nothing waiting for me at 
home.” 

“ A gracious speech, truly,” said Wladimir, 
honestly aghast, as he always was when any one 
fell short in his presence of the highest standard of 
amiability. 

“ Pan Malewicz likes to be ungracious,’^ put in 
Jadwiga, possibly a little piqued. “ Don’t you 
know that he considers ungraciousness to be his 
rUe^ and cultivates it as a virtue ? Play at work ? 
Oh, yes, there is nothing to prevent you doing that. 


ONE YEAR 


109 

What is there still ? Let me see — to be sure the 
pepper has still to be pounded. It is warm work, 
but you look half frozen as it is. It will be the 
very thing for you. There ! But please take it to 
the window, as otherwise it will be flying about 
and getting into our eyes.” 

Malewicz, who knew nothing of the remarks 
lately passed concerning the pounding of this very 
pepper, resignedly took the articles handed to him 
and retired in silence to the window, but the rest 
of the company glanced at one another with a sort 
of guilty sense of understanding, while the two 
fair-haired sisters burst into a fresh, but somewhat 
subdued, titter. 

A little later, when the pepper had been disposed 
of, there came another moment likewise calculated 
to put a less self-possessed person than Malewicz 
somewhat out of countenance. 

The question of sifting the flour had been raised 
— an employment which likewise did not range 
among the favourites, in view of the possible dis- 
figurement of garments, and again it was Wladimir 
who offered himself. 

I would do it in a moment,” a young married 
woman of the party declared, “ if I only had any 
other dress on but a black one — but, flour upon 
black, you know ” 

Then it was that Wladimir stepped into the 
breach. 


no 


ONE YEAR 


Jadwiga looked doubtfully at the fine, dark cloth 
of his winter suit. Perhaps she was reflecting that 
it would be a pity to transform the fairy prince into 
a miller’s lad. 

‘‘ It would be a sin to spoil that coat,” she de- 
cided. You would need at least to put something 
over it.” 

“ Let’s dress him up in aprons ! ” cried the 
ladies in chorus, delighted at this new pretext 
for merriment. ‘‘ He would look delicious as a 
cook.” 

“ No, I don’t think he needs any change,” said 
Jadwiga with a demure little smile. “ Pan 
Malewicz, you are done with the pepper, are you 
not ? Do you mind taking the flour ? I fancy it 
won’t make much difference to your coat.” 

I looked in some surprise at Jadwiga, and so 
did Malewicz. There had been the slightest pos- 
sible stress laid on the your^ and yet enough to 
make all eyes turn critically from the contempla- 
tion of the one coat to the other. Impossible even 
in a cursory glance not to note the difference of 
texture and condition, the intention seemed unmis- 
takable, but it was unlike Jadwiga, and shocked 
me, almost disappointed me in her. After the first 
moment of astonishment Malewicz quickly recov- 
ered himself. 

‘‘You are right,” he said, before any one else 
had spoken. “ A coat that has swallowed dust and 


ONE YEAR 


III 


drunk mud may well also digest a little flour with- 
out harm ; ’’ and, taking the sieve, he set about his 
task in an almost unnecessarily energetic fashion. 
This time none of the ladies saw the need of an 
apron, and only the good-natured Wladimir made 
suggestion to that effect, to which Malewicz re- 
plied with, perhaps, a shade of bitterness : — 

“ No, thank you, I don’t think I would look at 
all delicious as a cook.” Which was indeed so 
true that the mere vision of his tall, gaunt figure 
thus equipped set the tittering sisters off once 
more. 

But in time the flour was sifted as the pepper 
had been pounded, and Malewicz joined us at the 
table. By this time the lamps had been brought. 

And now for a story ! ” cried one of the gen- 
tlemen. ‘‘The stories always used to come with 
the lamps. It’s the bit of the evening I like 
best.” 

“ Is it to be a funny or a serious story ? ” asked 
Jadwiga. 

“ Oh, nothing serious, for Heaven’s sake ! ” im- 
plored the majority of the ladies ; “ rather fairy 
tales than that.” 

“ I have it ! ” said Jadwiga, looking in my direc- 
tion. “ We needn’t have fairy tales exactly, but 
we can have some of our legends. Miss Middle- 
ton was just saying the other day that she knows 
none of our national traditions. Here is an oppor- 

\ , 


112 


ONE YEAR 


tunity for instructing her. Let any one who will 
come out with the tale they know best/’ and she 
smiled at me down the length of the table, with 
that irresistible smile of hers which warmed the 
heart so suddenly by giving you the feeling that 
even in the midst of more brilliant and more im- 
portant people you were not quite forgotten. 

Filko must stop pounding the sugar,” decreed 
Jadwiga, ^‘or we shall not be able to hear.” 

And after that the legends began for my benefit, 
told by most of the company in turn — weird and 
fantastic tales of spirits and warnings and warlike 
deeds, recounted either briefly or lengthily, either 
flatly or brilliantly, according to the individuality 
of the narrator, but all with a dash of poetry, and 
many with the ring of despair about them, as befits 
the traditions of a fallen nation. When it came to 
Wladimir’s turn he told the story of the vanished 
fern blossom, and this tale I remember better than 
any, perhaps because of the remarks that passed 
concerning it, or perhaps because of the way it was 
told, for Wladimir proved by far the best narrator 
of the company. In the moment that he was pre- 
paring to speak and while all eyes turned upon 
him, it was evident that he felt thoroughly in his 
element. Having cast a glance down the table to 
assure himself that the attention was general, and 
with the long, snaky apple peelings still falling 
regularly from between his dexterous fingers, he 


ONE YEAR 


1^3 


began, without any ostentation but only a sort of 
modest confidence in his own powers : — 

The story of the vanished fern blossom is 
really a summer story, and I don’t know how it 
will sound with a lamp on the table and snow on 
the ground, but I will try. Well, Miss Middle- 
ton,” and he turned courteously toward me, you 
know, of course, that ferns do not blossom nowa- 
days, and yet this is said to have been the case in 
times long past. Here, then, is the way that we 
account for its disappearance. Many, many years 
ago the ferns blossomed with us, as they did else- 
where, and their blossoms were quite white and 
very beautiful, as white as the heart of a child, or 
of a man who has done no harm, and only a child, 
or a perfectly good man or woman could either see 
it or gather it, for this flower was visible on one 
night only of the year, and was guarded by many 
spirits against the approach of man. In the night 
of mid-summer, on the stroke of midnight, the 
bud opened, and who ever, being good and pure, 
went to the forest alone at that hour, could gather 
it — for against perfect innocence the spirits had 
no power — and having gathered it, he could, by 
only a wish, become possessed of the greatest 
riches of the world, which nothing could again 
take from him excepting his own act. And on 
every 24th of June it happened that hundreds of 
men and women who held themselves far better 


ONE YEAR 


ill 

than they were, wandered uselessly through the 
woods, while only one saw the flower, or, some- 
times, not even that one, because even he was 
not spotless enough, and when morning came the 
flov/er had vanished, and would not blossom again 
for a year. Well, years and years ago there lived 
a little peasant lad, whose mother had so little to 
give him to eat that she sent him to herd the 
neighbours’ geese. And while he sat for hours on 
the wide plain, with his willow wand in his hand, 
he would wonder in his mind whether there would 
ever come a time when he should have enough to 
eat, and whether he should always see his mother’s 
eyes red with weeping at night, and always have to 
watch her poor, tottering steps moving between 
the fireplace and the wood heap, and her poor, 
shaking hands striving to twirl the spindle. 
‘ When I am big it shall not be so,’ he said to 
himself. ‘ But it will be ten years before I am 
big, and she will die before then.’ And he began 
to turn over in his small head all the ways that 
people had of getting money quickly, but could 
find none. At last some one told him the story 
of the fern blossom which makes rich in an hour, 
and immediately a new hope sprung up in his 
heart, for this rosy-faced little lad with the great, 
clear eyes had never done harm to either man or 
beast, and scarcely even knew the name of evil.” 

Wladimir made a pause here in order to ask for 


ONE YEAR 


111 

a fresh batch of apples. As he glanced round 
the table he must have been gratified to see noth- 
ing but attentive faces. They had all heard the 
legend times enough, but perhaps not told so well 
as Wladimir told it, and not in his sensitive, 
musical voice. At any rate, they all listened as 
though the story was as new to them as to me. 
With his youthful face and frankly childish eyes, 
Wladimir might almost have stood for the hero 
of his own story, grown up to man’s estate, and 
surely this sweet-tempered and obviously kind- 
hearted youth had done no more harm in his life 
than the little peasant lad. 

Presently he took up his story. 

Over at the end of the plain there stood a 
forest, huge and dark, through which few paths 
led, where the ground was tangled with ferns and 
high grasses and strewn with rude blocks of rock. 
There the boy resolved to go on the next mid- 
summer night. He had never been there before, 
but he was not afraid, or if he was afraid he had 
only to think of his mother’s red eyelids in order 
to get courage. The time came at last, and he 
crept from the hut and ran across the plain which 
the moonlight made as light as day, and plunged 
at last into the big forest where it was as dark as a 
cellar, for here the moonlight could not reach the 
ground. And before he had gone a hundred paces 
he saw the flower shining like a lamp in the black- 


ii6 


ONE YEAR 


ness, and he climbed the rock on whose crest it 
grew, and in another minute it was his. He fell 
asleep then, tired with running, and with all sorts 
of confused wishes on his lips and in his heart, and 
next morning, when he awoke, he was resting on a 
velvet couch in a palace, and the attendants who 
flocked round him told him that he was richer than 
any man in the world. After he had begun to be- 
lieve, his first thought was his mother. He would 
have run off to fetch her instantly, but his servants 
held him back. The riches were his, they told 
him, but only his alone, in the moment that he at- 
tempted to share them with any one, and be it 
even his mother, they would vanish like dew. He 
had not heard that part of the story before, and 
when he heard it now, he sat down on the floor of 
the room and wept, and wept, and would not be 
consoled. ^ It was for my mother that I wanted it 
all,’ he said sobbing. ‘ What use is it to me if I 
cannot give it to her ? ’ ‘ Your mother is old,’ they 
told him ; ‘ she has one foot in the grave already — 
let her die in peace as she has lived, and enjoy 
what Fate has given you.’ But he only wept the 
more, and said he would take a sack of gold to her 
that very day. ‘ Do so, if you like,’ they said, 
‘ but when you open the sack there will be nothing 
in it but rotten wood, and when you come back to 
your palace you will find a heap of stones. You 
will be as poor as before, and so will your mother. 


ONE YEAR 


111 

What good will that do her then ? While now, at 
least, she is quit of all anxiety on your behalf.’ 
Although the boy would not listen, he could not 
help hearing, and by degrees the words found their 
way into his mind and he began to tell himself that 
it was true, that by ruining himself he would not 
be helping her. Then he set to work to enjoy his 
riches, and for a time he succeeded, but when he 
had got used to eating his fill, something would 
take hold of him and draw him out of his palace 
and across the plain to the hut, and would make 
him look in at the little square window to see what 
his mother was doing. She was always either 
weeping by the fire or turning her spindle sadly by 
the table, but never did he find courage to lift the 
latch, for he was ashamed somehow to bring his 
silken clothes into that mud hut. And each time 
he went back vowing that he would give up all his 
splendour and return to be poor with her, and 
never did he do it, for he had got used to soft liv- 
ing and could not make up his mind to rob himself 
by his own act. Yet, despite all his riches, he 
grew unhappier day by day. One day, at last, 
when he looked into the hut, his mother was not 
sitting either by the fire or by the table ; she was 
lying on the bed with her hands crossed, and two 
candles burning at her feet. Then he knew that 
it was too late to go back to her, and, throwing 
himself on the ground, he tore his silken clothes, 


ii8 


ONE YEAR 


and then, rushing back across the plain, he clam- 
bered up the very rock on which he had gathered 
the white flower, and springing off it, dashed out 
his brains against its foot, and in that same moment 
the palace melted into air with all the attendants, 
and from that moment no fern has ever blossomed 
again. The flower had cost the life of a man, and 
therefore it was condemned to be blotted out of the 
world forever.” 

Wladimir, carried away by his theme, had ended 
with a certain emotion in his vibrating voice. 
There was a short silence after he had done speak- 
ing, but the first remark, made somewhat rudely, 
disturbed the dreamy mood that had settled on the 
company. It was Malewicz who spoke. 

‘‘ I think that boy was a fool,” he observed, 
with something harsh in his voice. 

Every one looked at him in surprise. 

“ Why ? ” asked several of the ladies together. 

Because he did not know what he wanted. 
Either he could bear to look on while his mother 
starved, or else he could not. If yes, then he 
ought to have got the most out of his money ; and 
if not, he should have let his palace go to dust on 
the first day, without all that fuss about it.” 

‘‘ Surely nobody can really bear to see his mother 
starve ? ” began Wladimir, but Malewicz almost 
roughly interrupted him : 

“ Why not ? ” he said with a sort of deliberate 


ONE YEAR 


112 

and ostentatious callousness, which did not quite 
convince while yet it shocked. ‘‘ It is all a matter 
of habit, I assure you, and it all depends upon the 
price that is asked.’’ 

A little indignation was now mingling with the 
astonishment in the eyes turned upon him. Com- 
ing from the lips of a man who himself had a 
mother — not exactly in the position of the mother 
in the legend, but, nevertheless, within measurable 
distance of it — the remark sounded unnecessarily 
brutal. I confess that I felt as much astonished at 
him as I had felt a little while ago at Jadwiga. 
She herself was obviously indignant. 

Surely this is carrying ungraciousness just one 
point too far,” she said, with a flash of beautiful 
anger in her eyes. I think you might speak dif- 
ferently of your mother.” 

Perhaps I might,” he answered immediately, 
looking her hard in the face as he spoke, “ and per- 
haps, also, I might have acted differently toward 
her. I am not defending my filial conduct, but 
only maintaining that, under similar circumstances, I 
would have known my mind better than did that 
young man in the story.” 

The discussion evidently threatened to become 
too serious for the occasion, and, but for the timely 
interference of Wladimir — Wladimir always did 
and said the right thing at the right moment — who 
began earnestly demanding some instructions with 


120 


ONE YEAR 


regard to the apples he had peeled, a shadow would 
probably have settled on the humour of the com- 
pany. In this way, however, the subject was for- 
gotten in a few minutes, and the rest of the even- 
ing passed ofF smoothly and gaily — so gaily, in 
fact, that nothing but the thought that it was Ad- 
vent prevented its ending in a dance. 

That night in my room I said to Jadwiga a little 
reproachfully, “ What was the matter with you this 
afternoon ? I have never seen you like that be- 
fore. You seem to have made a regular task of 
snubbing that poor man at every turn.” 

Malewicz ? ” she asked, laughing. Why, I 
was only following your advice. Don’t you re- 
member telling me that it would be unnecessary 
cruelty to keep up his hopes ? ” 

That means, then, that you have made your 
choice ? ” I asked, with a little unaccountable dis- 
appointment. But Jadwiga only laughed and dis- 
appeared into her room with shining eyes. 

I did not require an answer; the events of the 
afternoon had been amply sufficient to tell me that, 
like a true woman as she was, she had taken the 
exact reverse of the advice I had given her. 


CHAPTER VIII 


The weeks that followed were in their main 
features a reflection of the afternoon described in 
the last chapter, inasmuch as in a hundred ways 
they marked the progress of Wladimir in Jadwiga’s 
favour, and the defeat of Malewicz. Once hav- 
ing made up her mind Jadwiga had thrown herself 
into her new part with all the unregulated ardour 
of her temperament, and scarcely an evening now 
passed without my having to listen to glowing 
eulogies on her elected hero, for she belonged to 
those excessively open natures who, in order to 
taste their emotions to the full, require to share 
them with another. 

“ Do you not think he is as perfect a lover as 
any one has a right to expect ? ” she would ask me. 

Each time I see him he seems to me handsomer, 
and he is not only beautiful, he is good too ; I am 
sure he has never done any harm in his life.’’ 

^‘I don’t think he has ever done anything in his 
life,” I replied, either harm or the reverse. He 
has scarcely had time, for the matter of that. He 
seems to me like an unwritten page, still waiting 
for its stamp.” 

‘‘Nothing but noble things could be written on 
I2I 


122 


ONE YEAR 


so fair a page/’ said Jadwiga, with characteristic- 
ally frank enthusiasm. 

Sometimes I was pushed to remonstrate with 
her, as I had done on the evening of the Christ- 
mas markday.” Because she had finally lost her 
heart to Wladimir seemed to me no adequate rea- 
son for slighting his unsuccessful rival at every 
turn. In a person whose true goodness of heart I 
had instinctively felt convinced of from the first 
this show of unkindness continued to puzzle and 
pain me. No opportunity was lost of placing 
Malewicz himself or his acts in the most unfav- 
ourable light possible, and of throwing upon his 
gaunt and somewhat uncouth figure as much ridi- 
cule as would stick — and this both in his presence 
and out of it. His very horses and his very 
clothes were made to serve the occasion, although 
if she had but taken time to reflect I know she 
would have shrunk with horror from the idea of 
throwing up his poverty — even indirectly — in his 
face. But Jadwiga was always more given to im- 
pulse than to reflection, and never having tasted 
poverty she probably did not realise its bitterness. 
More than once I took up the defence of the at- 
tacked man, as, for instance, on one occasion, 
when a collection was being made for some charity, 
to which most of the proprietors in the neighbour- 
hood subscribed largely, Malewicz was almost the 
only one who refused point blank. 


ONE YEAR 


123 


If I gave you a florin,” he said, it would be 
the same as if I gave you nothing, and a larger 
sum I cannot afford to give.” 

“ Not even for the sick children ? ” asked Jad- 
wiga indignantly. 

^‘Not even for the sick children,” said Male- 
wicz, colouring faintly, yet without lowering his 
eyes. ^^You must remember that charity begins 
at home,” and he tried to smile. 

The close-handed wretch,” said Jadwiga to me 
that evening after his departure j every one is 
subscribing. Wladimir is even putting off buying 
a new horse in order to make his subscription 
larger.” 

Wladimir knows that he will get his horse in 
time all the same,” I remarked, while Malewicz 
probably needs the money for more pressing things 
than riding-horses.” 

Another time — Carnival had come then — it was 
his ignorance of the Mazur step which filled her 
with indignation, almost contempt. 

“You call yourself a Pole ? ” she asked, in cold 
amazement. “ A Pole who cannot dance Mazur ! 
Is there such a thing ? ” 

“ When should I have learnt it ? ” asked Male- 
wicz. “ While I was ploughing my fields ? ” 

“ Other people plough their fields, too,” she re- 
torted, “ and yet they find time to cultivate other 
arts besides those of the farmer.” 


124 


ONE YEAR 


I know they do,” said Malewicz, with his 
usual grave self-possession, which under all the 
moral needle-pricks she was continually administer- 
ing, never quite deserted him, just as his patience 
never seemed quite to give way. “ There have 
always been people who find time for everything, 
even for playing at revolutions and running after 
national myths.” 

There was a general chorus of disapproval, in 
which Jadwiga’s voice was only one of many. 
Playing at revolutions ! National myths ! ” 
You do not mean surely that you call our glo- 
rious campaign of ’63 a game ? ” asked Wladimir, 
colouring with excitement. That it ended in 
disaster is no argument ; we proved with our 
blood that we were in earnest.” 

I will not call it a game if you object to the 
term,” said Malewicz unmoved, but rather a 
piece of childishly naive romance, badly organised, 
foolishly undertaken, and doomed from the first to 
failure.” 

A fresh chorus of dissent. 

‘‘ Badly organised, when everything had been 
prepared for years ! ” 

‘^Talked about for years, you mean,” corrected 
Malewicz, not prepared. We are always much 
greater at talking than acting. All our leaders to- 
gether had not as much as a pinch of practical sense 
among them. How else can you explain it that. 


ONE YEAR 


125 


while the suppliers of the army were disputing as 
to whether the loaves for the rations were to be 
baked round or oblong, our soldiers should be starv- 
ing for want of bread ? ” 

“ An accident,” said some one, with a pictur- 
esque sweep of the arm. They were heroes, all 
the same.” 

Heroes, perhaps, but they were not organisers, 
and not politicians either, or they never would have 
started that bloody and useless dance.” 

And if the call came again you would not an- 
swer to it ? ” asked Wladimir, measuring his rival 
with beautifully flaming eyes. ‘^You would not 
be ready to shed your last drop of blood for our 
unhappy mother country ? ” 

“ Not as matters stand now,” replied Malewicz 
calmly. “ Besides, I know that my blood would 
do her far more harm than good. Poland is dead, 
and all the mistakes we make come from imagin- 
ing that she is only asleep. It is best, surely, to 
look the truth in the face. We have been tried as 
a nation and have failed, and if we ever become a 
nation again it will only be because we ourselves 
have become different men. Just as a future Po- 
land could only be a quite different Poland from 
the past — a Poland in which we have learnt to 
work, rather than to dream and talk. But we are 
not ready yet, not for a long time yet, and there- 
fore I mean to work instead of dreaming, as be- 


126 


ONE YEAR 


comes a loyal subject of the Emperor Francis 
Joseph.” 

He looked steadily round the circle as he spoke 
and met nothing but inimical glances. At the 
sound of the last word there was a restless move- 
ment in the company, and something was mur- 
mured between more than one set of teeth, but 
I cannot vouch for its having been a blessing. 
There was not much more said ; perhaps the pres- 
ence of a stranger acted as a restraint, but all drew 
themselves coldly away from Malewicz, who for 
the rest of the evening remained well-nigh isolated. 

He has neither spirit nor enthusiasm,” said 
Jadwiga to me afterward. I am ashamed of 
such a countryman.” 

I confess I rather admire his moral courage,” 
I replied. “ It certainly required some pluck to 
confess his opinions in the face of such nationalists 
as your neighbours seem to be.” 

But Jadwiga would not hear a word in his 
favour and treated him, if possible, more coldly 
than before, and whenever I ventured to protest, 
threw up my own words in my face and told me 
that surely it was kinder to show him plainly that 
he had nothing to hope for. I have often puzzled 
over her conduct at this time, and have looked for 
an explanation of it, and in part, I believe I have 
found it. It sounds paradoxical, but I believe that 
it was her very intrinsic kindness which was at the 


ONE YEAR 


127 


root of her outward cruelty. Of course all that 
about crushing his hopes was nonsense, but I fancy 
that what she was trying to do was to harden her 
own heart against him, for she could not but be 
aware that he loved her deeply. The thought of 
what he would suffer when she gave her hand to 
Wladimir must have oppressed her even in the 
midst of her own bliss, and it was the effort to 
throw off this oppression that led her to try and 
kill the pity within her by every means that came 
to hand. The easiest way would, of course, have 
been if she could have succeeded in convincing 
herself that he was not worth sparing, that she 
despised him, instead of compassionating him — 
thence the constant endeavour to turn him into 
ridicule. And just because, despite all her efforts, 
he would not become ridiculous, and because at 
the bottom of her heart she was forced to esteem 
him — just because of this did she feel incensed 
against him. It is a complicated train of thought 
to follow up, but it tallies with all that I ever got 
to know of Jadwiga. It is possible, also, that the 
hope of disgusting him with herself, and thus sti- 
fling his passion, may have influenced her, but of 
this I feel less convinced, being a sort of motive I 
do not readily believe in. 

Meanwhile Wladimir had not yet spoken, but 
there could be no doubt of his sentiments. In- 
deed, he had on more than one occasion confided 


128 


ONE YEAR 


them to me with childish openness. My position 
was, in fact, rather comical and exceedingly deli- 
cate, placed thus between the two lovers, with an 
ear open, as it were, on either side, to their re- 
spective hopes and sighs, but I was beginning to 
get broken in to my role of confidante ; after all, it 
was about all that I was good for now. It is true 
that the Christmas party had passed off without 
Henry having proposed to Lily Somerville, but that 
could not alter my own position. If not this time 
it would be another time, and if not her it would 
be another. All I had to do now was to forget 
that I had ever dreamt of founding a home of my 
own, and to try and seek happiness in the happiness 
of younger and luckier people than myself. 

It seemed difficult to doubt Jadwiga’s coming 
happiness, and yet there were moments in which 
it was borne in upon me that she had in her a 
wonderful capacity for being unhappy. A streak 
of melancholy, a shade of gloom had found its way 
into her imaginative mind, and would occasionally 
break out without any apparent reason. I have 
often thought that her father’s terrible end was an- 
swerable for this incongruity in her otherwise joy- 
ous disposition. The memory of that awful day 
must have returned to her at moments irresistibly. 
Diving into my recollections I come upon one day 
in especial which revealed to me this side of her 
character. It was a gloomy day toward the end 


ONE YEAR 


129 


of winter, with snow still on the ground, but no 
longer the spotless mantle of yore. Footsteps of 
every sort, human and animal, now defaced its 
original whiteness. In the yard and in the park 
every beast could be traced — there was the deep, 
small hole of the hare, the flat print of the goose, 
the more intricate mark of the canine paw ; while 
outside, upon the plain, the beautiful, white mantle 
was striped in all directions with sledge marks, 
turned into slides before every hut, and defaced 
with the black of its smoke. A tattered and soiled 
mantle, truly, and time it was either to renew it or 
to doff it. It was to be doffed apparently, for 
to-day the thaw was at work. The slush was 
such as to baffle even my walking powers, and ac- 
cordingly I had taken refuge in my embroidery, 
while Jadwiga retired to the piano. She and I 
were alone in the big drawing-room. To-day it 
was nothing but melancholy airs which she chose, 
principally Russian Dumkas^ and when she spoke 
it was only to ask me whether I did not find that 
music was meant to express sadness far more than 
joy. Finally she glided into Chopin’s funeral 
march. I had heard her play it before, but never 
with such deep emotion, I might say conviction, 
as to-day. When the last note had sounded she 
turned toward me where I sat in the window em- 
brasure, trying to catch the fading light on my 
work. 


130 


ONE YEAR 


‘‘ I understand that so perfectly,” she said, as 
though continuing a discussion, do not you ? ” 
How do you mean ?” 

Chopin’s idea ; it is so easy to follow — or 
rather there are three ideas, quite distinct from 
each other. The first is simply sadness ; deep and 
dreadful mournfulness ; heavy, heavy tears — you 
can hear them in the chords of the first passage,” 
and she struck them softly as she spoke. Then, 
out of the midst of the sadness break the cries of 
despair, almost of rebellion, but only for a mo- 
ment 5 the dull sadness comes back again. All 
this is in the first movement. In the second there 
comes the first breath of resignation. Could any- 
thing be more peaceful and more holy, more like a 
soothing hand laid on a burning wound than this 
passage ? ” 

‘‘You are right,” I said, as I listened with de- 
light, letting my work drop to my lap. “To hear 
that is almost to make one submit to anything ; 
but I am curious how you are going to explain the 
finale. I have never been able to understand what 
Chopin meant there ; that wild, breathless, con- 
fused movement seems to me much more like a 
sort of insane dance than the termination of a 
funeral march.” 

“ I understand that, too,” said Jadwiga. “ Oh, 
I understand quite well what he had in his 
thoughts. He has followed the funeral in mind 


ONE YEAR 


iii 

all the time ; he has reached the churchyard ; the 
coffin has been lowered ; the clods of earth have 
fallen upon it ; the prayers are said ; all the train 
of mourners is gone ; and now the dead are alone, 
and from the forest the wind comes sweeping and 
brings with it a swarm of dead leaves to whirl and 
turn and dance round the newly-made grave, and 
to smother the fresh flowers that have been laid 
there/’ 

Jadwiga had risen from her place by the piano, 
and was now standing beside me, but looking be- 
yond me through the darkening window with fixed, 
heavy eyes, as though she were gazing on the 
vision which her own words had conjured up. At 
moments like this I felt sure she was thinking of 
her father, and perhaps living through in mind the 
impressions of the days that had followed the 
catastrophe. It was at these times of spasmodic 
sadness, too, that the likeness to the portrait of her 
dead parent came out most strongly, for his 
handsome face bore a certain shadow of gloom and 
care upon it. Since I had learnt his history I did 
not like to note this resemblance ; whether he were 
criminal or only insane I felt a reluctance to ac- 
knowledge that Jadwiga could be his daughter by 
anything but physical accident. 

As regards the question of his sanity and of my 
self-made theories, although I pondered upon them 
frequently during these months, I only once had 


132 


ONE YEAR 


an opportunity of discussing the question with an- 
other, on which occasion I discovered that I was 
not the only person who doubted the accuracy of 
the general assumption. This other person was 
Malewicz, and it was under the cover of dance 
music, and while many gay couples were filing 
past us in the Mazur, that our remarks on the sub- 
ject passed. This was not at Ludniki but at 
Krasno, the Lewickis’ residence, in whose hand- 
some apartments all the society of the neighbour- 
hood had assembled one day soon after Easter, 
which was especially early that year, in order to 
celebrate the feast day of old Pan Lewicki, Wladi- 
mir’s father. Never had Wladimir been in fuller 
glory than to-day. To see him standing on the 
doorstep of the house, with the spring sunshine 
gleaming on the satin of his doublet, and flashing 
back from the jewels of his belt — for, in honour 
of his ultra-national parent, he had to-day thrown 
himself into the national costume — was in itself a 
treat to any eye open to artistic effects. It may 
have been a trifle theatrical, but there could be no 
doubt about its being successful. To-day he was 
a fairy-tale prince indeed, not only in form and 
feature, but in every point of his attire. How 
should I blame Jadwiga for loving him ? A far 
colder fancy than hers might well have been fired 
by this picture, which to such sober eyes as mine 
was almost too dazzling. And then, what supple- 


ONE YEAR 


133 


ness of movement, what charm of manner in the 
task of receiving guest after guest, and conducting 
them to the presence of his handsome giant of a 
father, who, being rheumatic, feared to expose 
himself to the chilly spring air. From beginning 
to end it was Wladimir who was the soul of the 
entertainment. 

At Krasno things were conducted on a far more 
lavish scale than at Ludniki ; and, as a matter of 
course, some excellent music had been procured, 
so that, after several sumptuous meals, the evening 
ended in the only appropriate way for a Polish 
feast day to end. Then it was that Malewicz and 
I came to be thrown into each other’s society. At 
first he did not trouble himself to speak much ; 
this was not the first time that we two had figured 
as lookers-on, and he had got to understand that I 
respected his silences ; perhaps he even then al- 
ready vaguely guessed at my sympathy, without 
having ever appealed to it. To-day, for the first 
time, he indirectly alluded to his paramount 
thought. 

“ Those two will make a wonderful pair,” he 
said, after a time, in a tone of artificial unconcern 
which, I think, was scarcely meant to deceive. 
His eyes rested as he spoke on Jadwiga and Wladi- 
mir, leading the column of dancers down the 
length of the long room. Dressed in a pale blue 
silk which clung to her knee at each gliding step, 


134 


ONE YEAR 


allowing the wonderfully narrow foot to appear be- 
neath the hem, her face animated by the congenial 
movement, her white teeth flashing as she turned 
toward her partner, Jadwiga was to-day trium- 
phantly beautiful. There were many imitation 
Jadwigas in the room, many women that were 
good-looking in the same style, only in another 
degree, for dark hair and white teeth, and lithe, 
animated forms are common in Poland ; but Jad- 
wiga surpassed themx all. I could liken her to the 
picked specimen in a bunch of one sort of flowers 
— the one that, although of the same colour and 
the same shape as its neighbours, yet possesses 
every characteristic of the species more perfectly 
developed than they. 

When I had murmured some sort of vague 
acquiescence to Malewicz’s remark, he added 
thoughtfully : And yet that was not what her 
father wanted.’’ 

“ Had he made plans for her already ? ” I asked 
in order to cover the genuine embarrassment I felt. 

Surely she was a mere child when he died ? ” 

So she was, and yet he had made plans. Some 
fathers look far ahead, you know. He had actually 
thought of a husband for her, but you would never 
guess whom.” 

I don’t see how I could well guess that,” I re- 
marked. 

No other than your humble servant,” said 


ONE YEAR 


135 


Malewicz with a short, hard laugh, which it hurt 
me to hear. “ But, as you see, dead men do not 
always get their wishes — nor living ones either,” 
he added below his breath. Then he went on : — 
“ I don’t mean to say that his intention was fixed ; 
probably it was only a passing fancy. My father 
was an old friend of his, you see, and he thought, 
no doubt, that he would be doing me a good turn. 
I daresay you have heard that Pan Bielinski was in 
general very kind to me ? ” 

He looked at me rather closely as he spoke and I 
assented, having indeed heard from Jadwiga that 
her father had on more than one occasion offered 
help to the son of his dead friend, but also that 
this help had always been refused. 

He was eccentric in many things,” remarked 
Malewicz, thoughtfully ; the idea of choosing me 
as a son-in-law is a proof of it, is it not ? Why, I 
believe Pani Jadwiga ranges me quite among the 
middle-aged.” 

I knew this to be not exactly true, although, 
owing to the ten or dozen years difference between 
them, Malewicz had, of course, never been a play- 
fellow, in the way Wladimir had been, and there- 
fore did not enjoy such privileges as, for example, 
being called by his Christian name. 

“ Eccentric ? ” I repeated, carefully ignoring the 
latter half of his remark, I have heard that he 
was more than eccentric.’ 


136 


ONE YEAR 


Malewicz turned quickly toward me. ‘‘You 
have heard that he was mad, I suppose? No 
doubt somebody has told you the story.” 

“ I have been told the story,” I said, “ but I 
don’t quite know what to think of the madness. 
Tell me. Pan Malewicz,” I added on some impulse 
of curiosity, for the opportunity seemed too good 
to be lost, “ are you too of the opinion of the 
world ? ” 

He met my eyes for a moment, and then looked 
away across the room. 

“ What other explanation can you possibly 
find ? ” he asked, in not quite so decisive a tone as 
usual. 

“ I have not found any, or rather I have found 
dozens, and I don’t know how to choose between 
them.” 

“ Ah ! ” he said, and looked back at me keenly, 
and as it seemed to me a little anxiously, “and 
what may your explanations be ? ” 

Then I gave him the outline of the romance I 
have evolved out of my inner consciousness, as 
well as of several variations upon the same theme. 
He listened with his eyes on the dancers, but evi- 
dently intently. 

“ Do you not think I may have got near the 
truth ? ” I asked at last. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “ How can I tell ? 
What should I know about it more than any one 


ONE YEAR 


137 


else ? ” he asked, almost a little impatiently. The 
world says he was mad, and perhaps the world was 
right.” 

Perhaps,” I said, but rather than the world’s 
opinion I would have had that of the old French 
monk who was the victim.” 

He was not so very old,” said Malewicz, 
certainly under fifty.” 

Did you see him ? ” I asked in some surprise. 
“ Certainly I did.” 

‘‘ Dead or alive ? ” 

‘‘ Alive and dead. Did you not hear that he 
came to our house just before he went to Ludniki 
We are on the way, you know.” 

No, I had not heard that before,” I said with 
increased interest. “ And what impression did 
you get of him ? Did you too take him for a gen- 
tleman and for a Frenchman ? ” 

He certainly was a Frenchman,” said Male- 
wicz, again looking across the room, and I be- 
lieve he was a gentleman too.” 

But quite a stranger to you, I suppose ? ” 

Entirely so.” 

I wonder whether he would have been a 
stranger to your father too ? ” I mused aloud. 
“ He also had been in Paris in his youth, but I be- 
lieve he was dead by that time ? ” 

He died two years earlier,” said Malewicz 
briefly. 


ONE YEAR 


I pondered for a moment. Pan Lewicki, 
Wladimir’s father, was the third of the ‘ Three 
Mousquetaires/ as I think you said the trio was 
called in Paris. Did the mysterious monk ever 
meet his eyes, I wonder ? ” 

No, Pan Lewicki never saw him, he was away 
from home at the time. But don’t you think. Miss 
Middleton,” he added in another tone, that we 
might choose a topic more congenial to a ball-room 
than are these black memories ? ” 

I asquiesced, half ashamed of the curiosity that 
had pushed me so far, and, although this inquisi- 
tiveness sprang only from my warm interest in 
Jadwiga, and anything that touched her, even in- 
directly. We talked of other things after that, but 
I carried away with me the impression that Male- 
wicz too disbelieved in Bielinski’s madness, and 
had possibly even formed a theory of his own, dis- 
tinct no doubt from mine, as well as from that of 
the public. 


CHAPTER IX 


Scarcely a fortnight after the dance at Krasno 
L find myself writing thus to Agnes : — 

I have seen my first stork — or rather storks, 
for there were more than twenty of them. Ever 
since on my arrival last October I inquired what 
the untidy, black lumps were which decorated 
many of the straw roofs in the village, and was 
told that they were storks’ nests ; I have been 
waiting eagerly for the return of the occupants. 
But now that they have come something else has 
happened whose interest quite puts the storks into 
the shade. To come to the point at once, that 
which has been preparing all winter has come to 
pass — since yesterday Jadwiga and Wladimir are 
betrothed. I rejoice with the sweetest girl I ever 
knew, and at the same time I feel as though I must 
pray very hard for her happiness. Why ? I am 
sure I don’t know, but I can’t quite suppress a 
shade of anxiety. Jadwiga is generous in her love, 
but she expects the same measure in return — as she 
gives largely, so she wants to be given to largely, and 
her own spirit is so high, her temperament so in- 
tolerant of anything below the most ideal standard 
of self-devotion, that it would be difficult for any 

139 


140 


ONE YEAR 


man quite to come up to her ideal. Will Wladi- 
mir do so, morally, when the first glamour of their 
love is passed ? He is a dear, good boy, and he 
loves her devotedly — it is scarcely too much to say 
that he adores her — but I cannot quite rid myself 
of the feeling that there is a certain want of 
stamina about him, something too ornamental even 
to allow of his being useful, a thing, in short, 
which is intended more to be gazed at than leant 
upon. It may be that my partiality for Jadwiga 
makes me hypercritical, but she is perfectly and 
entirely happy, and so I must not repine.” 

And now, leaving the rest of this letter aside, as 
irrelevant to my subject, I must enter more closely 
into the circumstances under which I saw my first 
storks. 

A cruel and, so to say, ironical chance had 
thrown the names-day of Madame Malewicz 
within the same fortnight as that of Pan Lewicki, 
and after the comfortable, almost sumptuous, 
Krasno, it was at the bare and dilapidated Roma 
Wielka that the society of the neighbourhood 
assembled. No contrast could have been sharper. 
Both houses were planned on about the same scale. 
In times long past Roma Wielka may even have 
been the more luxurious of the two, whereas now 
the great rooms looked as empty as though sacked 
by an enemy. Nothing more mournful to see 
than poverty in the wrong place ; so long as she 


ONE YEAR 


iii 

keeps to her proper sphere and hides her head 
under thatched roofs, she is not without a certain 
grace of her own j but poverty in halls is quite a 
different thing from poverty in cottages. To see 
the steps of a nobly broad terrace crumbling for 
want of repair ; tiles missing from an almost 
palatial roof 5 while a park that would require a 
staff of gardeners to keep it in order is abandoned 
to a lad with a hoe — powerless, of course, against 
the invading army of weeds — is enough to strike 
sadness even to the heart of a stranger. In its 
golden days the Roma Wielka park must have 
been a far more ambitious affair than that of 
Ludniki, as was testified by traces of fountains, 
remains of plaster figures, and ruins of summer- 
houses, yet, despite its comparative neglect, Ludniki 
was a model of order compared to this. 

If anything could have enhanced the tragi- 
comical side of this caricature of former grandeur, 
I think it was the festive air it assumed on the 
April day of which I am writing. Every effort 
had, of course, been made to receive the guests 
becomingly — the same guests that had been feasted 
at Krasno a fortnight ago — but ah, how apparent 
the effort was, how thin the mask spread over the 
features of grinning poverty ! What Polish tact 
could do to smooth over the difficulties of the 
position was, of course, done. The bare apart- 
ment positively shone with the hot-house flowers 


142 


ONE YEAR 


brought as feast-day offerings to Madame Male- 
wicz, and whose bright colours so mercifully clothed 
the nakedness of the rooms which all the elders 
remembered in their time of prosperity. Yet, 
despite their smiling unconsciousness, each guest 
must have known that, in order to spread even this 
poor fare before them, mother and son would have 
well-nigh to starve themselves for a month to 
come. What Malewicz must have suffered on 
occasions like this it is difficult to conjecture; to 
his proud and over-sensitive spirit this day must 
have been one of ever recurring torture, as was to 
be read in the exaggerated brilliancy of his black 
eyes, and the tight look about his lips, as gravely, 
punctiliously, without a trace of Wladmir’s playful 
grace, he did the honours of his bare home. 

Fortunately, his mother saved him almost the 
entire trouble of being amiable. I had seen her 
once or twice in the course of the winter, when 
visits had been exchanged between Ludniki and 
Roma Wielka, and in an earlier letter to my 
friend I find my first impressions to her thus 
given : — 

Madame Malewicz is a very charming, rather 
helpless old lady, with a delicate nut-cracker face, 
and the same black eyes as her son, who has 
evidently been accustomed until nearly middle-age 
to be waited on by troops of servants, and who, not 
being used to think for herself, is always leaving 


ONE YEAR 


143 


her shawl and her cigarettes lying somewhere about 
the place. I should say, at a guess, that she is 
exceedingly unpractical and somewhat vague. She 
bears her privations with the most delightful good 
humour, and seems to have what people call a 

happy disposition,” but after nearly twenty years 
she doesn’t seem to have in the least adapted her- 
self to her “ new ” position. Obviously, she is the 
sort of person who is meant to be rich, and I don’t 
think I am wrong in supposing that she adds con- 
siderably to her son’s difficulties by not under- 
standing what she can afford, and what she cannot. 
Although she is certainly not stupid, she gives me 
the impression of never quite realising her financial 
position. 

It may have been exactly this last-named 
deficiency which made of Madame Malewicz so 
perfect a hostess. If she had had a dozen footmen 
behind her, and a gorgeously-furnished hall in 
which to receive her guests, she could not have 
greeted them with more smiling cordiality, nor — 
when the time for refreshment came — could she 
have pressed food upon them with more complete 
self-confidence had her table been laden with the 
most costly meats. Nothing but her complete 
unconsciousness of the deficiencies around her 
could have made the situation bearable. The 
occasion which to the son was one of mental 
agony, was to the mother obviously one of pure 


144 


ONE YEAR 


enjoyment. It was clear at a first glance that she 
was created for society, and merely to put on a 
silk dress and shake the hands of her acquaintances 
was bliss to her. I doubt not that her spirit carried 
her back to similar occasions in a more brilliant 
setting, and that she lived so entirely in the memory 
of those fortunate days that the distasteful details 
of the present escaped her. There was no guest so 
insignificant but that she had not an appropriate 
word for him. 

“Whom do I see ? — actually Wandusia ? ” she 
exclaimed, on catching sight of a young girl follow- 
ing close upon her mother. “ Wandusia in long 
skirts — put on in my honour, of course ; this is 
good of you. Stasia. I always said that she must 
make her debut at Roma Wielka ; we have room 
enough here, even if the floor is not quite so good 
as it used to be, and — let me whisper it in Wan- 
dusia’s ear — we have three fiddlers coming ! What 
do you think of that ? — from Zloczek only, it is 
true. I had wanted to get the music from Lim- 
berg, but that economical son of mine — he’s a 
tyrant, I assure you — declared it would be ex- 
travagant,” clapping him affectionately on his 
sleeve with her fan. “ But he has extravagant 
moments, too — let me see, where have I got it ? 
Krysztof, my love, just run and fetch me the new 
cigarette case, I had it a moment ago — it will be 
either in my bedroom or the dining-room, or, if 


ONE YEAR 


145 


not, Hania will know. Ah, Zygmunt Rapinski ! 
this does my eyes good ! ” she went on in the 
same breath, addressing a white-haired gentleman. 
“ I knew you would not forget old friends, and you 
will get your reward too, for the last bottle of 
miod^^ (a sweet liqueur in which honey is the chief 
ingredient) “ is to be opened to-day ; you see I have 
not forgotten your tastes — just imagine what you 
would have missed by not coming ! And Elzbieta 
too ! quite right, my dear, a husband who is as fond 
of miod as Zygmunt had better not be left to him- 
self. There, that sofa is very comfortable; I 
advise you to take possession of it in good time,” 
pointing with the affability of a queen to a seat on 
which the frayed satin hung in fringes. Ah, 
there comes Krysztof with the cigarette case — I 
wonder where he found it ? Now, my friends, 
don't you call this good taste ? ” exhibiting an 
extremely handsome cigarette case of chased silver, 
decorated with the Malewicz arms. Isn't it 
foolish of him, and isn't it also sweet of him ? I 
have told him a hundred times that I can do with- 
out these things, that I can do without anything, 
that I have no wants ; but it is no use, and just 
because I lost my old one last week he goes and 
buys me this as a feast-day present ! '' 

The case was indeed so out of keeping with the 
establishment that I looked instinctively toward 
Malewicz, There was the ghost of a smile play- 


146 


ONE YEAR 


ing about his tight lips, which helped me to guess 
part of his thoughts. It was not the first time 
that I had heard Madame Malewicz protest her en- 
tire independence of such trifles, but I had also 
observed that she did not quite live up to her prin- 
ciples. No doubt her son knew better than her- 
self which things were necessary to her happiness, 
and which not, and mercy knows at what personal 
sacrifices that cigarette case had been purchased. 

Have any of you gentlemen got any matches 
about you ? ’’ went on the old lady, opening her 
case, I had mine a minute ago ” — Madame 
Malewicz always had everything a minute ago — 

Elzbieta will join me, I know, but I am not go- 
ing to give Jadwiga any; it is all very well for old 
women like us to dye our teeth any colour we like, 
but it would be a sin to stain those pearls even by 
a shade,” and she smiled at Jadwiga affectionately, 
displaying a set of still regular, but almost canary- 
coloured teeth. 

Thus she chattered on with the lightheartedness 
of a child for whom embarrassment does not exist. 

When I had amused myself sufficiently with 
watching her and admiring her — for it was impos- 
sible to do otherwise — I took an opportunity of 
slipping unobserved from the room and out into the 
great wilderness which still went by the name of 
park. The weather at least had been kind to 
Madame Malewicz ; this was a far more perfect 


ONE YEAR 


147 


spring day than the one spent lately at Krasno. 
True it was only the willows and the hazel-nuts 
that were tufted and tasselled as yet, and the 
tangled beech branches overhead were almost black, 
but among them the birds were pouring out their 
hearts in a perfect flood of melody, and in sheltered 
places the ground was streaked with vivid green. 
I had only gathered snowdrops as yet, and was 
hungering after violets, cowslips, anything to tell 
me more plainly that the long winter was really 
over. But, although my mind was bent on flow- 
ers, the surroundings necessarily took my thoughts 
back to Malewicz. Since seeing him in his own 
home I had got to understand the whole history of 
the man better. He had not quite reached man- 
hood when his father died, leaving him only the 
wreck of a princely fortune and his mother to sup- 
port. Since then he had done nothing but struggle 
to keep together the remnants of the paternal acres, 
with the additional difficulty of distinctly remem- 
bering the time of luxury. That the responsible 
position in which he had been prematurely placed 
should have put a stamp of almost exaggerated 
seriousness upon him was not to be wondered at, 
and as easily could I understand that the almost 
monastic seclusion in which he lived had caused his 
unfortunate passion for Jadwiga to take entire pos- 
session of his soul, standing as it did in place of 
everything that generally makes life agreeable at 


ONE YEAR 


his age. An unfortunate passion indeed ! The 
thought of it oppressed me more than ever. I felt 
that the crisis was approaching, although I did not 
know how near it was. Jadwiga had come re- 
luctantly to Roma Wielka, and only because she 
could not avoid doing so without exciting remark, 
and I do not think that she herself foresaw the end 
of the day. 

I must have been wandering about for an hour 
on paths barely to be traced and often obstructed 
by a self-planted bush, and the bunch in my hands 
was growing to quite respectable dimensions, when 
I heard swift, light steps behind me, and turning 
saw Anulka trying breathlessly to reach me. 

Miss Middleton, oh. Miss Middleton, wait for 
me ! ” she panted in her thin voice, and in another 
moment had reached me, exhausted, but with shin- 
ing eyes. 

‘‘ Oh, I had to catch you,” she said, cutting 
short a remonstrance from me. I have discov- 
ered something so delightful — you can’t imagine — 
nobody knows it yet.” 

Well, what is it?” I asked, trying to make 
her stand still, but she had hold of my hand and 
was dragging me feverishly forward. 

‘‘ I can’t tell it you ; it is something I must 
show you ! Oh, do come quickly or it may be 
gone ! ” 

There was no opposing Anulka when in this 


ONE YEAR 


149 


mood, and only doing my best to moderate the 
pace I allowed myself to be pulled along between 
the trees in a different direction from the one I had 
come by, and with my curiosity only half-awakened 
and bent chiefly on some new sort of flower, or 
possibly a bird’s nest. We had left the path and 
were making our way across country, as it were, 
often having to skirt some spot where the melted 
snow still lay in compact pools, and passing by 
patches of hepatica and anemone which my fingers 
were itching to be at, but which Anulka, in her 
eagerness, scarcely worthied with a glance. 

Wait only,” she kept repeating, “ I have some- 
thing much more exciting to show you.” 

At last, just as the trees were lightening, she 
stood still, and peered out cautiously from between 
a fringe of green hazel-nut tassels. There was a 
clearing in the park just here, a stretch of marshy 
meadow which was greener than any grass I had 
yet seen. 

‘‘ Are they still there ? ” Anulka was saying un- 
der her breath. Yes, they are ! There ! Look 
through here. Miss Middleton.” 

I looked, and uttered an exclamation of sur- 
prised delight, for the whole green surface of the 
little meadow was dotted over with tall, white 
birds, stalking along on their red legs with a so- 
lemnity impossible to describe, and gravely poking 
about for the frogs, more than one of whom 


150 


ONE YEAR 


must have vv^akened from his winter’s sleep only to 
find himself inside a stork, for, although I had 
never seen a stork out of a picture-book, I had 
yet vaguely and incredulously guessed at the iden- 
tity of the mysterious white birds. I say incredu- 
lously, because it seemed so much more like Hans 
Andersen fairy tale than anything in real life. 

“ Have you counted them ? ” I whispered to 
Anulka, quite as interested as she by this time ; 
“ there must be more than twenty.” 

But there are only two,” was the unexpected 
reply. 

“ Are you blind ? ” I inquired amazed. 

“ Are you looking at the storks ? ” retorted 
Anulka. 

‘‘ Of course. What are you looking at ? ” 

‘‘Why, at Jadwiga, of course. At Jadwiga 
and Wladimir. They are much more interesting, 
surely, than the storks. Bother the storks ! Al- 
though, to be sure, it was they who led me here. 
I saw the flight, and wanted to see where they 
would alight, so I followed them and saw — well, 
just what you see over there, between these two 
twigs.” 

Then I looked again mechanically, and, sure 
enough, right opposite, just across the green 
meadow, Jadwiga and Wladimir were sitting side 
by side on a bench beneath a mighty but still naked 
beech, and even from here it was perfectly clear 


ONE YEAR 


111 

that their hands lay in each other’s and that his arm 
was round her waist. They must have sat so for 
long, for the birds did not mind them, stalking about 
peacefully till within a few yards of the motionless 
lovers — and this made it all more like a fairy tale. 

‘‘ And you thought it was for fear of frightening 
the storks away that I was speaking so low ? ” tit- 
tered Anulka by my side. 

I turned upon her angrily, provoked by the role 
of eavesdropper into which I had been betrayed 
unawares. With her shining black beads of eyes 
and the grin of delight on her weazened face she 
seemed the very embodiment of an imp of evil. 
This was one of the moments in which I posi- 
tively hated her. 

“ How could you dare to bring me here ? ” I 
was beginning when I became aware that some- 
body was standing behind me. I turned quickly 
and saw Malewicz only two paces ofF, and he, too, 
was looking straight in front of him, across the 
meadow with the storks — but not at the storks, of 
course. His face was so white, his eyes so fixed, 
and his mouth so pinched, that he looked physic- 
ally ill. As for Anulka, she only stopped to whis- 
per, ‘‘ I am frightened of him,” and then darted 
away among the bushes. 

We had better be going,” I said unsteadily, 
but I had to touch him on the sleeve before he 
seemed to notice me. Then he turned his stiffly 


152 


ONE YEAR 


moving eyes upon me, and seemed to take another 
moment or two to recognise me. 

“ Yes, we had better be going,” he repeated in a 
rough, uneven voice, and walked two steps away, 
like a man dazed, then abruptly stood still and 
looked at me again, his white face working. 

‘‘You know that I love her? ” he said still in 
that curiously rough voice, and measuring me al- 
most angrily with his eyes, as though the words 
had been a challenge. 

“ I have guessed it,” I said as quietly as I could, 
for indeed my heart was bleeding for him. 

He walked on, speaking rapidly as he went. 

“ I knew, of course, that I should lose her — that 
is, that I should never win her. The day had to 
come, but why this day ? Why here ? Is it not 
bitter enough without that ? ” 

“ They probably forgot where they were,” I said 
stupidly, which was about the most injudicious re- 
mark I could make. 

Malewicz gave a desolate laugh. 

“ You are right — to real lovers the surroundings 
are as nothing — nothing exists but just they them- 
selves. I daresay they will be quite surprised to 
hear that it was at Roma Wielka that they plighted 
their faith to each other. To them it is not Roma 
Wielka, it is Paradise, and they the only two in- 
habitants. Oh, to have been only an hour inside 
that Paradise.” 


ONE YEAR 


153 


He stopped again abruptly, and bent his shoulder 
against a tree stem as though taken with some sud- 
den spasm. I, too, stopped perforce, not knowing 
whether it would be more merciful to keep my 
eyes on him or turn them away. It was the first 
time that I had seen the soul of a man in mental 
agony, thus bared, as it were, to my gaze, and the 
spectacle shook me as I had seldom been shaken 
before. Within the last months I had become al- 
most intimate with Malewicz, but he had always 
been reticent — for a Pole — and I had not been pre- 
pared to see him throw oiF the mask thus entirely. 

“ If there was a God in Heaven,” he said 
fiercely, while he still leaned against the tree and 
picked at the bark with nervous fingers, it would 
not be possible that one man should have his hands 
full and the other entirely empty. By what fault 
of mine am I robbed of everything that makes life 
sweet ? My father was the first who robbed me. 
Do Paryxie ! Do Paryxie ! (To Paris). It used 
to be the cry of young men in his day, and he fol- 
lowed it, and the gold that had been gained by the 
sweat of Polish peasants’ brows was all tossed 
away on the Paris gaming tables, and because he 
had a gay youth I must have a dark one ; because 
he played I must work beyond my strength — and 
yet that is not small. One hope, one flower, grew 
up in my wilderness, and that to-day has been 
gathered by another ! ” 


154 


ONE YEAR 


He broke ofF with a sort of gasp, and turned his 
face toward the tree. There passed only a few 
moments, during which he was obviously struggling 
for mastery over himself, and then he looked back 
at me, and I saw that the victory was gained. 
After his brief outburst of rebellion he had stooped 
and again taken up his burden. 

“ Have* I frightened you ? ” he said with rather 
a ghastly smile. ‘‘ It does not happen to me often ; 
only now and then the injustice of it all seems to 
get upon me. Please forget all I have said j I was 
probably raving. Of course I knew that this con- 
summation was coming — I have had the whole win- 
ter to prepare in, but it seems that it was too short, 
after all. I sincerely wish them all happiness. I 
am sure that Wladimir loves her, and will try to 
make her happy. I pray to God that he may suc- 
ceed. I have known him from a boy, and there is 
no harm in him beyond a little pardonable vanity, 
and that surely is justified by circumstances,” and 
he smiled again, a little more successfully. 

To say that there was no harm in Wladimir 
somehow seemed always the first thing that his 
friends were moved to say about him, but of Jad- 
wiga’s elected husband I should have liked to hear 
praise that was a little less negative. 


CHAPTER X 


During the weeks that followed her betrothal I 
believe Jadwiga was as happy as it is possible for a 
mortal creature to be. She had found her ideal — 
or believed she had done so, which comes to ex- 
actly the same thing. She had got hold for life of 
a congenial spirit, of somebody who could listen to 
Byron or Chopin for hours without signs of weari- 
ness, and could enter with enthusiasm into her 
most ideal views of life. Personally I doubt 
whether Byron read by other lips, or Chopin 
played by other fingers, would have had the same 
power of entrancing young Lewicki, but to Jad- 
wiga I dared not hint at anything but the most 
perfect identity of tastes. 

Just at first the happy bridegroom was a little 
disturbed by one thought. 

‘‘ Do you think anybody guesses which day it 
was that I spoke to her ? ” he anxiously inquired 
of me. I should be awfully vexed if Krysztof 
were to know that it happened at Roma Wielka. 
You see it came over me somehow quite sud- 
denly.’’ He looked at me with such a boyishly 
deprecating air as he said it that I could almost 
have kissed him. 


155 


156 


ONE YEAR 


“ It would make it harder for Krysztof, don’t 
you see,” he added thoughtfully, and besides, it 
would look in such awfully bad taste ” — it was 
here evidently that lay the rub. The thought of 
doing anything that was not in the most perfect 
taste must certainly have been acutely painful to 
any one of Wladimir’s cast of mind. 

To Jadwiga the same thought had doubtless oc- 
curred, but she did not speak of it to me. Since 
her engagement she had no attention of any sort, 
even for Malewicz. I remember one occasion 
only in which his name was mentioned between 
us. I had been defending him against some pass- 
ing attack, when Jadwiga laughingly broke in : 

If you find him so perfect why don’t you 
marry him yourself,” she asked, carried away by 
her exultant spirits. ‘‘You’re always sticking to- 
gether in a corner, at any rate. Oh, have I said 
anything to hurt you ? ” she checked herself ab- 
ruptly, for her quick perception probably showed 
her some change in my face. 

“You have not hurt me,” I said, “but you may 
as well know that I don’t mean ever to marry. If 
I feel drawn toward Malewicz it is principally be- 
cause he too has been unlucky in love.” 

“ He too ! Oh, Miss Middleton — Eleanor ! then 
you have a secret which you have never told me ; 
you are unhappy and you have not allowed me to 
console you ! ” 


ONE YEAR 


157 


I don’t know what made me so foolish, but just 
then my eyelids began to burn most suspiciously 
and my sight grew blurred. Perhaps it was the 
contrast between her fate and mine that over- 
powered me thus unexpectedly. 

Her arms were round my neck in a moment, her 
soothing voice in my ear, murmuring all sorts of 
the most ingenuous words of endearment. Never 
before or since has it been my fate to be called a 
little dove ” or a sweet lamb ” — things to which 
I am aware of bearing no resemblance, but that 
was Jadwiga’s way, for her nature was essentially 
caressing. In a few minutes more she knew all 
about my poor little dead romance. I should need 
to have been of wood to resist her. She listened 
with an astonishment that was evidently as bound- 
less as her sympathy. That common sense could 
have anything to do with sentiment was a thing 
which had evidently not occurred to her before. 

And you went away of your own free will ? ” 
she asked, incredulously. Nobody forced you ? 
Why did you not marry and then trust to Provi- 
dence ? ” 

Because neither Henry nor I are idealists,” I 
replied, smiling, recovered by this time from that 
moment of weakness, and because we can both 
make a sum in addition. We knew that by mar- 
rying we should be risking starvation, not only for 
ourselves, but possibly for others.” 


158 


ONE YEAR 


‘‘ I don’t understand that at all,” said Jadwiga, 
thoughtfully. She was kneeling beside me, with 
one arm still round my neck, and gazing with 
wide, dreamy eyes through the open window be- 
yond at the blue of the spring sky. 

If two people really are fond of each other, 
what can want of money matter — what \:an any- 
thing matter ? ” 

‘‘You have never wanted it, you see,” I gently 
observed. 

“ No, but I almost wish I had, just to be able to 
show what I understand by love. That about the 
world being well lost is no nonsense to me; it is 
the only thing that I entirely subscribe to — a com- 
plete devotion, an entire giving away of oneself, a 
merging of one soul into another — it is the only 
sort of love that seems to me possible. What can 
poverty, or pain, or shame, or any of the misfor- 
tunes of life do to such a love as that, except to 
make each cling closer to the other ? ” 

Her dreamy eyes took fire as she spoke, and I 
felt the hand that lay about my neck thrill with the 
inward emotion. She looked infinitely beautiful 
and infinitely in earnest as she gazed past me into 
the blue distance, and inwardly I prayed that her 
high ideal might never be put to too hard a test. 

But the test was coming sooner than it was pos- 
sible to foresee, and was to prove far harder than 
anything I dreamed of. 


ONE YEAR 


159 


Even although I should live to be a hundred I 
shall never be able to forget the smallest details 
of the day \vhich abruptly broke in upon Jadwiga’s 
dream of bliss, turning the peaceful monotony of 
Ludniki into agitation and perplexity. Her en- 
gagement was nearly three months old by this time, 
and the outfit was making great progress, for the 
wedding had been fixed for August. This very day 
we were expecting the post to bring us the patterns 
for the wedding-gown, and were accordingly looking 
forward to its arrival with more than the usual in- 
terest. Of late Wladimir had spent his afternoons 
entirely at Ludniki, for his father had gone off to 
nurse his rheumatism at Karlsbad, and the empty 
house at Krasno was not to his taste. He was 
here again to-day, and was even making himself 
useful, for all hands were busy in the rose-walk. 
We were in the very flush of the rose season then, 
and the long, straight walk which I had first seen 
bristling with hips was now turned into a perfect 
dream of beauty. Like two long untidy garlands 
the low-growing roses ran down each side of the 
path, spilling their vividly crimson petals profusely 
on the ground, intoxicating the eye with their 
colour, the brain with their scent. Every morning 
when I walked there, there were fresh ones newly 
opened, while over-blown ones had been torn to 
tatters by the night breeze. To-day Anulka and 
I, basket in hand, were diligently collecting the 


i6o 


ONE YEAR 


flowers, while Jadwiga and Wladimir, installed in 
one of the old summerhouses, and surrounded 
with more heaped baskets of the crimson petals, 
were supposed to be clipping off the hard under- 
part of each petal, useless for culinary purposes, for 
these were the roses from which was fabricated the 
delicious jam I had tasted so often. From the direc- 
tion of the house the clink of sugar being vigor- 
ously pounded rang toward us like a monotonous 
chorus, and, from time to time, Roza, the kitchen 
maid, appeared to fetch a new supply of rose 
leaves, and each time regularly Wladimir offered to 
carry them for her, and then allowed himself to be 
persuaded to stay where he was. 

What a different place the Ludniki park appeared 
to me to-day from what it had done at first sight ! 
I remember reflecting on it as I skirted the rose 
hedge, scissors in hand. Then I had been shocked 
by the untidiness, now I was chiefly charmed by 
the beauty. Was it a deterioration in me ? Per- 
haps. Evidently the atmosphere of comfortable 
neglect in which I lived was having its effect upon 
me. What a lot of time, to be sure, we waste in 
tidying up and putting things straight generally ! 
Is it really a gain to cultivate our sense of sym- 
metry to the point of being disturbed by a stray 
paper or a chipped plate, or to get so sensitive by 
habit as not to be able to stand an empty bottle 
with equanimity ? Upon my word, I believe they 


ONE YEAR 


i6i 


are right. By their principle of Nte nie skad%ie 
they escape quite a lot of bothers, even if they oc- 
casionally risk not finding a footstool when they 
want it, or only finding one with a broken leg. In 
such and such like reflections I had caught myself 
indulging lately. 

‘‘I think I hear Jan’s horse,” said Jadwiga to 
me as I brought her another basketful. Do send 
Anulka for the post-bag.” 

It was Jan, who, according to established cus- 
tom, had ridden in to fetch the post from Zloczek. 

‘‘ Oh, arerCt you curious ? ” screamed Anulka as 
she ran off, “ but I hope you’ll choose brocade, not 
satin. Satin is so every-day, you know.” 

“ I shall choose whatever Wladimir likes best,” 
said Jadwiga simply, and their eyes met for a mo- 
ment, and Wladimir blew aside his cigarette smoke 
in order to be able to see her face better, for it is 
almost superfluous to say that he was smoking cig- 
arettes. In Galicia cigarette smoking is the ac- 
companiment of everything, from card-playing to 
love-making. 

Presently Anulka was to be seen coming toward 
us with the post-bag dangling from her arm. 

‘‘Jan says the patterns are there,” she shouted 
to us from afar. 

The brass setting of the worn and weather-beaten 
old post-bag glimmered faintly in the sunshine. Its 
familiar countenance bore its usual expression of 


i 62 


ONE YEAR 


stolid indifFerence ; there was nothing to show that 
it carried a thunderbolt within it. 

Jadwiga took her hands out of the rose leaves to 
open the bag. She had a rose in her hair, and one 
in her belt, and she had stuck the most perfect rose 
she could find into Wladimir’s buttonhole. In her 
light summer dress she looked like a queen of the 
roses indeed. 

‘‘Yes, the patterns are here, and, let me see, 
what else ? A letter from Madame Clarisse ” — 
that was the milliner at Limberg — “ and another 
big letter — for me ? ’’ 

She looked at the address on the long, thick, 
blue envelope, and her face grew suddenly grave. 

“ How strange !” she said in a subdued tone. 
“ It is addressed to Papa. It must be somebody 
who does not know — who thinks he is still alive ; 
but I cannot imagine who. Wladimir, are these 
not French postage stamps ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Wladimir, examining them ; “ and 
the postmark is Paris.” 

“ Perhaps somebody who knew him long ago, 
but what can he have to write to him now ? I 
suppose I had better take the letter to Mamma.” 

“ Oh, won’t you look at the patterns first ? ” 
asked Anulka in an agony of impatience. 

“No, I must go to Mamma,” said Jadwiga, ob- 
viously agitated, as she always was when anything 
reminded her of her father, and, with the blue letter 


ONE YEAR 


163 


in her hand, she rose hastily, overturning a basket 
as she did so, and littering the ground with petals. 

Can I not take it for you ? ” asked Wladimir; 
but she gently shook her head. 

You can unpack the patterns meanwhile,’’ she 
F.aid. I daresay I shall be back in a few minutes. 
Very likely this is only some old account which 
has been overlooked.” 

But she did not come back in a few minutes. 
V/e sat on working among the rose leaves for 
nearly half an hour longer, and still our helper did 
not rejoin us. Wladimir rolled innumerable cigar- 
ettes between his dexterous fingers and threw ques- 
tioning glances along the rose-walk, but its length 
remained deserted. The patterns of brocade and 
satin, having been sufficiently gloated over by 
Anulka, lay unheeded on the table. By degrees a 
vague sort of anxiety grew up within me. The 
letter was from Paris — Jadwiga’s father had been 
in Paris — the dead monk was a Frenchman — these 
thoughts moved confusedly in my brain, and out of 
these materials my fears constructed some unde- 
fined danger to Jadwiga’s happiness. 

I think I shall go and see if there is no bad 
news,” I said at last, as carelessly as I could. 

That would be good of you,” said Wladimir, 
who, poor boy, was looking more disappointed than 
anxious. He had not counted upon seeing his 
afternoon thus curtailed of its rightful measure. 


164 


ONE YEAR 


In the house I was met by the smell of hot rose 
jam which penetrated all the passages. I had gone 
only a few steps when I almost ran against Jadwiga. 

I was just coming to look for you/’ she said 
with a white, startled face, catching her breath 
strangely between her words. “ Mamma is very 
ill.” 

‘‘ Because of that letter ? ” I asked instinctively. 

“Yes — I suppose so — but I don’t know exactly. 
There were several letters inside the packet, not 
only one. I stopped to see her read them because 
I really was curious, but she had only read one 
when her eyes opened wide — oh, so terribly wide ! 
— and she fell back quite stiff in her chair. Marya 
thinks she is coming round now, but I have sent 
for Doctor Kouski. I was just coming to ask for 
your smelling-salts.” 

I fetched the smelling-salts, but was met at the 
door of Madame Bielinska’s room by Marya in one 
of her most determined moods. I was not to come 
in, nobody was to come in until the doctor arrived, 
she categorically declared, not even the young lady. 
Madame Bielinska had opened her eyes, but she 
seemed in a sort of stupor ; it was best not to dis- 
turb her further just yet. And here were the letters 
which had arrived by the post, Pani Jadwiga had 
better take care of them meanwhile, and she thrust 
into Jadwiga’s hands the whole packet, and shut 
the door in our faces. 


CHAPTER XI 


Jadwiga and I, left alone in the passage, looked 
at each other for a moment in silence. Then she 
said in an excited whisper : — 

Come to my room. I want you to help me 
to read these. I have tried to, but I don’t under- 
stand anything ; the words seem to jump up and 
down before my eyes, and they talk of such strange 
things — there seems to be no sense in it.” 

“ But ought I to read them ? ” I asked, doubt- 
fully. If these are family affairs ” 

You must, you must ! ” she repeated excitedly. 
“ I cannot read them alone — I am too frightened 
— of I don’t know what. And they have to be 
read — something may have to be done, and if 
Mamma is ill there’s only me. Oh, don’t make 
me read them alone ! ” 

I don’t know whether I was right to yield but I 
did, suffering myself to be led along to Jadwiga’s 
room, where the first thing she did was to lock the 
door. 

Why do you do that ? ” I inquired, startled by 
so unusual a precaution on her part. 

I don’t know. I don’t want any one to see the 
letters yet until I know what is in them. Here 
they are ! But don’t read them too loud, please.” 
165 


i66 


ONE YEAR 


“ I would rather read them to myself first,” I 
said, infected by her excitement, if I am to read 
them at all. Let me just throw a glance over 
them.” 

“ Yes, yes, only be quick,” said Jadwiga fever- 
ishly, and while I sat down at the table she took 
some paces about the room, aimlessly and uneasily, 
and finally sat down on her bed and watched me 
as I read. I could feel her eyes upon my face and 
could hear her deep, unsteady breaths. Through 
the open window the hot smell of the rose-jam 
still floated in, coming from culinary regions, and 
somewhere in the distance somebody was still 
pounding sugar. 

I don’t know what I expected as I took the 
papers into my hands ; all sorts of wild surmises 
were in my head, but none of them were quite the 
truth. 

Inside the big, blue envelope there had been a 
smaller one, originally white, but a good deal yel- 
lowed by age, and fastened with seals on which, 
although they had been broken within the last 
half-hour, an elaborate coat of arms was still trace- 
able. Besides this there were several letters, 
whose limpness showed them to be of the same 
date as the envelope, and having evidently come 
out of it. One only, written on crisp, business 
paper, bore a date of only a few days back. This 
is the one I first took up. It came from the office 


ONE YEAR 167 

of a Paris solicitor, and, to the best of my recol- 
lection, it ran as follows : — 

Sir, — During the revision of the business ef- 
fects of my predecessor in this office, M. Nicolas 
Grimond, defunct on the loth of last month, I 
have come across various parcels — of letters pre- 
sumably — deposited here years ago by the Vicomte 
d’Urvain, and in accordance with the directions on 
the wrappers, have the honour to return to you, or 
to your heirs, those that bear your address. I will 
here remark that Monsieur Grimond had for years 
past been charged with the affairs of the family of 
d’Urvain. 

A notice of the safe reception will oblige 
Your devoted servant, 

‘‘ Joseph Chardon.” 

or some name of that sort. 

I looked more carefully at the inner envelope. 
There, upon the surface, I found the somewhat 
faded inscription : — 

‘‘In case of Monsieur Grimond’s death to be re- 
turned unopened to 

“ Monsieur Hazimir Bielinski, 

“ Ludniki, 

“ Post Zloczek, 

“ Galicia, 

“ Austria.’’ 

and below the signature : — 

“Achille d’Urvain.” 

In complete darkness I turned to the letters 


i68 


ONE YEAR 


which had evidently been contained in the sealed 
envelope. There were three of them, written in a 
flowing, legible hand, that was more like that of a 
woman than a man, and they were all signed 
Hazimir Bielinski.” The envelopes they had 
been in were addressed the one to ‘‘ Monsieur le 
Vicomte d’Urvain, Capitaine dans le 2me Regiment 
de Lanciers — Tunis — Afrique ” — the others to the 
same name, but bearing the designations of more 
obscure African places that I have forgotten. The 
first was dated from Paris, and here are its con- 
tents. I have altered a word here and there, but 
certainly nothing essential ; there was a time when 
I knew those letters better by heart than any les- 
son I ever learnt : — 

Paris, 

‘‘ Hotel d’Angleterre, 

‘‘May nth, 185 — . 

“ My dear Vicomte, — I have not done it yet, 
but I mean to do it. God knows that I shall have 
no peace until it is done. I would have written to 
you even if your lines, penned at Marseilles, had 
not arrived, for in our hurried interview on last 
Wednesday morning I could not even attempt to 
justify myself in your eyes — no, not to justify, but 
only partially to excuse. You have probably 
never been desperate, or you would know that a 
desperate man is not to be judged as one that is 
master of all his powers. After the many pleas- 
ant hours spent in your society I should be loth to 
lose your esteem entirely, and therefore I will here 


ONE YEAR 169 

attempt to tell you briefly the history of my great 
fault, or of my crime, if you will so call it. 

You will remember that for a week past I had 
been losing heavily ; the run of bad luck was be- 
ginning to get on my nerves, I believe, for both 
my sleep and appetite went, and I lived in a state 
of chronic irritation, very hard to keep within 
bounds. Then came that dreadful Monday when 
all the powers of hell seemed to have conspired 
against me. When I rose from the table that 
night — no, it was morning already — I could see 
my ruin quite close to me — ^you all could see it, I 
think, for every one agreed that a revanche was due 
to me, and he — I cannot bring myself to write the 
name of the man I have wronged — was the first to 
offer it me for the following night. I knew it was 
my last chance ; I knew that one more such night 
must leave me a beggar. Everything, my whole 
future, depended upon how the cards fell. 

I swear to you by the memory of my mother 
that when I sat down at the table I had no more 
thought of doing a dishonest act than of murdering 
any of my companions. I was content to trust to 
my luck, hoping fiercely that it would be on the 
turn. It was only when I gradually comprehended 
that the luck had not turned, that this night was to 
be but a continuation of the last, that I began to 
get mad. And then the opportunity came. 

Oh, that mirror, that fatal mirror ! If it had 
not been for the chance of the place I sat in I 
could never have had the means, even if I had had 
the will, to do harm. How was I to know how to 
set about playing false ? I had heard indeed of 
marked cards, but I never would have had the 


ONE YEAR 


170 

nerve for such a manipulation, and would most 
certainly have betrayed myself at the first attempt 
— but the mirror showed me the way. I was hold- 
ing the Bank, as you remember. From the mo- 
ment I perceived that, by slightly tilting up the 
card I was dealing, I could catch a glimpse of its 
underside, the temptation to guide my play by this 
discovery became irresistible. At first I did it only 
by way of experiment, as it were. It did not seem 
to me possible that the players should not perceive 
my manoeuvre, but when it became clear to me 
that they did not, then my will seemed to go from 
me. Remember, on one side there was Ruin stand- 
ing — real Ruin this time, and not merely its shadow 
— on the other this ridiculously easy, childishly 
simple means of retrieving my fortunes. It was 
like a new sort of game within the game, and I 
think that it was a little the mere interest of the 
thing that drew me on until, gaining confidence, I 
grew bolder and began to stake higher. Nothing 
ever was so successful. The bystanders — and the 
excitement of the play had drawn many to the 
table — laughingly declared that I was having more 
than my revanche. Once only, when glancing up- 
ward, I met among the lookers-on a pair of eyes 
fixed with suspicious attention upon me. They 
were your eyes, Vicomte, but by that time I was 
too flushed with success to heed the warning in 
them. It was only when, after that long night, I 
found you waiting for me at the door of my hotel 
that I understood that I was detected. You will 
do me the justice to admit that I attempted no 
denial ; it had been but a brief madness, and it was 
over. I don’t think I ever seriously thought of 


ONE YEAR 


U1 

profiting by the act into which I had been betrayed. 
To give you the promise which you demanded of 
me was, therefore, only to meet my own conscience 
half-way. Do not regret, as you do in your letter, 
that you were unable to stand by until I had re- 
deemed my word. Both your duty and mine is 
clear. You are called to defend your country's 
interests on a distant field of battle ; I am bound 
to make good the loss which my opponent of the 
other day has apparently obtained at my hands. 
Your warning was not required, but I accept it as 
part of my punishment. You are my judge and I 
am the sinner, and the sentence you have pro- 
nounced upon me shall be fulfilled to the letter. 
Only have a little patience. This affair must be 
treated between me and him^ and I cannot make 
up my mind to do so verbally. So long as we 
are in Paris we meet daily. I shall wait until we 
are separated, and then I shall write to him. Do 
not blame the delay. If he were in any way un- 
harassed by his losses of last week I would speak 
at once, but his pockets are still full — neither he 
nor anybody else suspects that those losses were 
anything but a trick of fortune. You and I are 
the only mortals who know the secret. He will 
be leaving Paris next week; be merciful and grant 
me these few days more in which to say good-bye 
to my like of hitherto — perhaps even to the world, 
for what possible future remains open to me I can- 
not see. 

“ As for the calculation you make, it is, I fear, 
correct. Yes, it cannot have been less than a 
hundred and twenty thousand francs that passed 
between us on Tuesday night. 


172 


ONE YEAR 


“ Farewell. Think of me as little badly as you 
can, as of one who fell by weakness and not by 
wickedness, and who quickly threw from him his 
wrongful gains. 

“ Hazimir Bielinski.” 

The second letter was shorter, and written from 
Ludniki a few months later. 

Dear Vicomte, — You are cruel because you 
have never been unfortunate. Have I not told 
you that restitution shall be made; and can you 
not let me choose my own time ? Surely you for- 
get that what you ask of me is nothing less than 
beggaring myself? If I am to do your will en- 
tirely there will be no help but to sell Ludniki ; 
according to your merciless view of the case not a 
stone of it belongs to me now. But are you quite 
sure that your view is the correct one ? At the 
first moment I was so overwhelmed by the mere 
thought of what I had attempted to do that I un- 
hesitatingly accepted your verdict; but reflection 
has put another light on the matter. It is true that 
I took the mirror to aid, but is it certain that with- 
out the mirror I should not have made a few lucky 
guesses ? Besides, as I told you, it was no more 
than a glimpse of the underside that I caught, so 
that, even with that aid, I was scarcely doing more 
than guessing ; if I remember right there were even 
times when, in a fit of momentary terror, I did not 
consult the mirror at all ; and some of my win- 
nings may have proceeded from exactly those times. 
How then do you want to decide which part of the 
sum gained that night is my lawful property and 
which not ? The matter is not nearly so simple as 


ONE YEAR 


173 


to you, with your high-minded but surely some- 
what impulsive chivalry, it appeared in the first 
moment. Let me implore you to submit the mat- 
ter to a calmer consideration. I think you will 
find that I am not obliged to despoil myself en- 
tirely. Do not use the power which chance — or 
rather which I myself have given you over me too 
harshly — for without my own confession what 
proof would you have against me ? Remember 
that he is still rich, while I am threatened with 
poverty, that that which he does not even miss 
means for me the common sustenance of life. Of 
course he shall have his due, but I must first be 
clear in my mind as to what exactly is his due. 

‘‘ I shall await your answer before doing any- 
thing further. I do not know where my letter will 
find you; according to the papers the French 
troops are moving continually, but in time these 
lines will reach your hands. 

I do not know whether I may yet venture to 
sign myself. Your friend, 

Hazimir Bielinski.” 

I took up the last remaining letter and read : — 

‘‘Ludniki, November 17th, 185 — . 

‘‘Monsieur le Vicomte, — Your last letter was 
to me a painful surprise. Had I not told you that I 
was ready to abide by your decision, and was only 
in doubt as to the exact amount of restitution due ? 
Since you insist upon a complete sacrifice, it shall, 
of course, be made, but, at least, you will allow 
me to make it in my own fashion. During these 
months, while waiting for your letter, it has oc- 


174 


ONE YEAR 


curred to me that restitution does not necessarily 
entail confession. I have only to repeat the un- 
happy experiment which Fate forced upon me, 
using it this time against myself ; ht shall win back 
from me all that he lost on that fatal night ; he 
will have his money again without finding it neces- 
sary to despise me. I feel a little lighter in heart 
since thinking of this, for I do not know how I 
could have borne the shame even before only one 
man more. The beggary still remains, and this, 
too, is hard enough to bear. Beside your words 
of stern condemnation might you not find some 
of sympathy for a very unhappy man The ex- 
posure you threaten me with is a superfluous 
cruelty, since you know that I have no choice. 

Hazimir Bielinski.” 

As I laid the third letter on the table I raised 
my eyes and met those of Jadwiga fixed with a 
devouring glance upon my face. She was still sit- 
ting on the bed, as though she had found that the 
best place from which to follow my expression as 
I read. Whether there was anything to see there 
I don’t know, for I had read very fast, the writing 
being clear despite the faded ink, and had scarcely 
taken time to think as I hurried on, for I too was 
devoured by a painful curiosity. 

^^Well?” asked Jadwiga, impatiently. “Do 
you understand anything ? Is there any sense in 
it at all ? ” 

I could not answer immediately, for the simple 
reason that as yet I had nothing to say. Leaning 


ONE YEAR 


17s 


my cheek on my hand I sat for a few moments 
quite still, with closed eyes, allowing the phrases 
just read to pass once more slowly through my 
mind, and gradually to group themselves to a 
whole. 

Yes,’’ I said slowly, after that minute. ‘‘ I 
am afraid I understand. But tell me first, are you 
quite sure these letters are written by your father ? ” 

“Yes; I am sure of that. There was no other 
Hazimir Bielinski ; and, beside, it is the same 
writing that Mamma has in her prayer-book.” 

“Then — but are you sure that you want to 
know everything ? These letters were not meant 
to be read by you or by me either.” 

“ Perhaps not, but I must know everything 
now,” said Jadwiga, with sudden fierceness. 
“You have no right to keep anything from me.” 

She sprang from the bed and came toward the 
table, but I gently laid my hands upon the papers 
that lay scattered there. 

“ My poor child, then let me tell you — it would 
be worse to read the words. I can only say what 
seems to be the truth. The person who wrote 
these letters confesses to having used an unfair ad- 
vantage while playing at cards, and having thus 
wronged another.” 

Jadwiga looked at me wildly across the table on 
which, with convulsively clenched hands, she was 
leaning. 


176 


ONE YEAR 


But I have just told you that the person who 
wrote these letters was my father,” she said, al- 
most coldly. 

I looked down in silence, unable to bear her 
gaze. 

An unfair advantage,” she continued, abstract- 
edly, “ but that would be the same as cheating, 
would it not r Tell me quick. Miss Middleton, is 
that what you mean ? ” 

That is what these letters seem to mean,” I 
answered, helplessly. 

“ But it is a lie ! ” she cried, giving the frail 
table so vehement a push that it groaned in all its 
somewhat decrepit members. It is a vile lie, or 
else a mistake — don’t you think it is a mistake Miss 
Middleton ? Surely a card cheater is the basest, 
most contemptible thing in the world — therefore it 
cannot be true. You don’t think it is true, do 
you ? ” And her eyes seemed to be imploring me 
to unsay the words just spoken. 

I had taken up the letters again, and was once 
more running my eye over them, perhaps in some 
desperate hope of extracting another meaning, 
although in my heart of hearts I was already con- 
vinced. 

How can I say what is true and what is not ? ” 
I answered, with painful hesitation. “ If it is a 
lie then it is your father himself who has spoken 
it, and why should he ” 


ONE YEAR 


177 


My words were cut short by a lively movement 
of the door-handle — knocking was not customary 
at Ludniki. 

Jadwiga flew to the door and turned the key. 

Is Mamma worse ? ’’ she asked of Marya, 
who stood without, flurried, but also indignant. 

“Much worse, I consider,” she replied, with a 
certain air of injured consequence she was apt to 
assume whenever her prescriptions were not fol- 
lowed to the letter. “ But she has taken it into 
her head that she is better, and nothing will suit 
her but that the young lady should come at once 
and bring the letters with her. Pve never seen 
her anything like this. It’s no use telling her that 
quiet is what she needs. I shouldn’t be surprised 
if she refused to see Dr. Kouski when he comes.” 

Jadwiga snatched up the scattered papers from 
the table and seized me by the hand. 

“You will come with me?” she said with ir- 
resistible entreaty in her eyes ; “ she might be 
taken ill again.” 

“ I will follow you in a minute,” I said, for I 
had suddenly remembered that Wladimir was still 
waiting in the garden, in complete ignorance and 
probably keen anxiety, and I thought that I might 
as well take upon myself to send him home. His 
presence, until the situation was somewhat cleared 
and the most violent emotions calmed, struck me 
only as a fresh complication. 


178 


ONE YEAR 


“ Madame Bielinska has had a fainting fit/’ I 
explained to the distressed youth, and Jadwiga is 
too busy with her mother to come out again.” 

“ But she is not ill herself? ” he anxiously in- 
quired. ‘‘ Was there any bad news in that letter ? ” 

There was some rather — startling news, but I 
cannot stop to talk about that now. Jadwiga is 
quite well ; you need have no fear on her account.” 

But is there nothing I can do ? Can’t I fetch 
a doctor, or go a message, or something ? ” he in- 
quired desperately. 

No, there is nothing except to leave Jadwiga 
undisturbed beside her mother,” I replied. 

‘‘ But I suppose I may come again to-morrow to 
inquire ? ” 

“ Of course you may,” I replied, in a fever to 
be quit of him and back again beside Jadwiga. 


CHAPTER XII 


When I reached Madame Bielinska’s room a 
great surprise awaited me. She was not lying on 
the bed as I expected, but sitting upright in the 
deep armchair, in which I had never seen her 
otherwise than sunk into a broken and insignificant 
heap. Her spare figure had been wonderfully 
straightened and, as it were, enlarged by some 
acute tension of the nerves ; on her usually so 
bloodless cheeks there burned two bright spots, 
while the cavernous eyes no longer looked empty 
of everything but the reflection of terror, but 
showed something like a new life in their depth. 

The letters ! ’’ she was saying as I entered. 

The letters ! Where are they ? I must read 
them again.” 

Jadwiga, on her knees beside her mother, was 
holding them half hidden against her dress. 

Little mother,” she entreated, do not read 
them. They will make you ill again. It is all a 
mistake — I do not believe it.” 

I do,” said the mother, in so strangely incisive 
a tone that Jadwiga looked at her speechless, at the 
same time mechanically abandoning the papers she 
held. 


179 


i8o 


ONE YEAR 


Madame Bielinska took them eagerly, with a 
gesture I had never seen in her, or supposed her 
capable of, and for a few minutes all was silent 
while she closely read the letters, nodding her 
head slowly the while, and sometimes uttering a 
queer little sound in her throat as though of 
assent or corroboration. What struck me as the 
strangest part of the matter was that neither 
grief, despair, nor shame had any part in her ex- 
pression. These were the things I expected to 
find there — was she not reading the confession 
of her husband’s disgrace ? — while what I saw 
instead was excitement undoubtedly, but mingled 
with something that almost resembled satisfac- 
tion. 

When she had done reading she seemed for the 
first time to notice my presence. 

Don’t send Eleanor away,” said Jadwiga 
quickly, catching her mother’s glance toward me. 
“ She knows all there is to know — she has read the 
letters — I made her read them — she is our friend. 
Mamma.” 

At the same time her eyes were asking me 
plainly not to go. It was evident that she was 
afraid of being left alone with this so curiously un- 
familiar mother. 

So be it,” said Madame Bielinska readily. 

Why should she not know ? Everybody will 
soon know, and she may help us with her advice ; 


ONE YEAR 


i8i 


we will require much reflection and good counsel. 
Jadwiga, my love, will you go to the press between 
the windows ? ’’ 

She was fumbling at her neck as she spoke, and 
now pulled out a narrow black ribbon on which 
hung a small key. 

“ There at the bottom, on the lowest shelf, you 
will find a leather box, the one with the monogram 
on the top ; bring it to me, please, at once ; there 
is something in it.” 

In wordless astonishment Jadwiga obeyed, and 
I looked on, unable even to conjecture on what her 
mind was running, and wondering whether her 
senses were not, after all, deranged. 

Madame Bielinska grasped at the box that 
Jadwiga brought her as though at a prize. With 
steady hands she unlocked it, and searched for a 
few moments within. It seemed principally to 
contain old letters. At last she found what she 
wanted. 

‘‘ There ! ” she said, with a sigh of relief, and, 
unfolding a limp sheet of paper, she handed it 
without further word to her daughter Jadwiga, 
whose eyes were not accustomed to the dim light 
of the apartment, took it to the window. As she 
read, the perplexity on her face deepened ; then, 
still in silence, she passed it on to me. 

The letter was not written on letter paper, but 
on a sheet that might have been torn out of a large 


i 82 


ONE YEAR 


note-book, and was dated from a military lazaretto 
in a West African camp. 

‘‘June i6th, 185 — . 

“Monsieur Bielinski, — Your letter has found 
me here — only just in time. I am not able to 
answer it myself, for the sabre cut on my right 
arm forbids me holding a pen. Even these few 
words have to be dictated to Soeur Marie Cecile, 
the good angel who nurses me and who has saved 
my soul, as I trust to God, although she has not 
been able to save my body. I am forced to use 
her hand as the instrument wherewith to convey to 
you my last warning — the warning of a dying 
man. But you need not fear betrayal j I will use 
words which you alone can understand. Your let- 
ter tells me that you see your duty plainly at last; 
fulfil it in your own fashion, but do not delay. In 
my opinion only a full confession could bring a 
full atonement, but so long as the thing is done I 
will not insist on the way it is done. But do not 
grow weak. I speak to you as one whose foot is 
in the grave. By the time you read these lines the 
lips that dictated them will be cold. When I 
spoke to you before, I spoke as the indignant man 
of the world, for whom only the world’s code of 
honour exists ; now I speak as the sinner whose 
eyes have been opened at the last moment to the 
follies of his youth, to the time he has wasted in 
the world, and it is God’s commandments and not 
man’s that I call upon you to respect. But I be- 
lieve even these words are not wanted. You will 
have redeemed your word ere this, and made the 
great sacrifice. May God reward it you, and may 
you not forget to pray for my soul. U.” 


ONE YEAR 


£3 

These lines were penned in a delicate woman’s 
hand, and only the U at the foot had been pain- 
fully scrambled by another, evidently the dictator 
of the letter. When I had read it I looked at 
Jadwiga, and Jadwiga looked at me, then at her 
mother, who was carefully watching us both. A 
minute passed before any one spoke. I was trying 
to piece together the different pieces of evidence — 
my ideas were not clearly ranged just yet. 

I don’t understand,” said Jadwiga, at last slowly. 
Don’t you ? Surely it is clear enough. The 
writer of the letter is the same man to whom these 
three are addressed,” and Madame Bielinska indi- 
cated the papers in her lap. 

“ But where does this one come from ” 

That I am going to tell you. After your 
father’s death I found it. When I had recovered 
my senses and a little of my strength, the first thing 
I did was to search all his papers. Every one told 
me that he had been mad, and I pretended to 
believe them, but I did not do so really for a 
moment. Somewhere, so I felt certain, there must 
exist some other explanation, and I had no peace 
until I had read every line he left behind him, 
hoping that one might give me a clue. And at last 
I found this ; and even this was not among his 
papers, but lying between the leaves of a book 
which had been packed away at the back of a 
shelf. I suppose that was the only reason of its 


184 


ONE YEAR 


not having been destroyed, as every other one 
coming from the same quarter has evidently been 
destroyed. He had mislaid it, and the merest 
chance put the book into my hands a few months 
after his death. I had grown so used to scan every 
paper which my eye fell upon that I at once read 
this one, and I immediately understood that here 
lay the secret of his death. But it was scarcely to 
be called a clue — nothing that I could follow up, 
and it told me nothing except that there had been 
some disgrace in his youth, and what this disgrace 
might be I have been trying to guess ever since, 
and I see now that I have not been far from the 
truth — for I have often thought of cards. Oh, I 
am not so stupid as people take me to be ! ’’ 

There was a convulsive movement about her lips 
which may have been meant for a smile. 

Jadwiga had sat down opposite to her mother, 
and was earnestly looking at her. 

The secret of his death ? ” she repeated. 
“ How does this explain the secret of his death ? ’’ 
Madame Bielinska made a movement of impa- 
tience. 

“How slow you are, Jadwiga!” she said, in 
a tone of querulous irritation. “ It is all as 
plain as day. Ever since I found this French let- 
ter I have suspected that the monk who fell by 
HazimiFs hand was the writer; now I am sure 
of it.” 


ONE YEAR 185 

But the man who wrote this letter was dead 
long before — he wrote it on his death-bed/’ 

“ He thought he was on his death-bed, but he 
did not die. This Sister Marie Cecile whom he 
speaks of here, did after all, succeed in saving his 
body as well as his soul, and evidently succeeded 
so well with the latter that the first use he made 
of his returning health was to forswear the world 
and take the cowl. Read the letter again, and 
say whether this is not exactly the thing which 
you would expect of the writer, supposing he 
recovered.’’ 

She looked at me as though appealing to my 
judgment, and I silently inclined my head. 

Whether Hazimir ever had any further com- 
munication with him,” went on Madame Bie- 
linska, “ I do not know, of course. If he had he 
took care to destroy all traces, or perhaps he got 
no more. The Vicomte, in this note, seems to 
have considered the matter settled, and once in 
the cloister he may have left all worldly concerns 
outside.” 

Jadwiga began to move uneasily in her chair. 

“ But, Mamma, even supposing you are right — 
even supposing my father did commit so — so great 
a fault, this surely does not explain the — end. 
Since he had atoned for his weakness so many years 
before, what further cause of quarrel could there be 
between him and the Frenchman ? ” 


i86 


ONE YEAR 


‘‘ But he had not atoned for it ! ” cried Madame 
Bielinska, in a shrill accent that rang almost like 
one of triumph, and grasping the two arms of her 
chair, she bent so far forward that I thought she 
must fall, staring back unflinchingly into her daugh- 
ter’s wide and horror-stricken eyes. Don’t you 
understand, yet ? Does he not say in all these 
letters of his that, in order to make restitution, he 
will have to beggar himself — to sell Ludniki ? 
And did he beggar himself? Has Ludniki been 
sold ? And remember during all these years we 
have fallen heir to no inheritance; no money has 
come to us from other quarters. What does it 
mean ? Why simply that the excuses which had 
served for weeks and for months had ended by 
serving for years. And when twenty years later 
the Vicomte turned monk, came to this door — 
whether by pure chance or with some latent intention, 
who can ever tell now — and found that the promise 
given had not been kept, and that the sinner was 
still in possession of his wrongful gains, has turned 
his wrath upon him, possibly threatening him with 
immediate exposure — and then — well, surely, now, 
you cannot believe that your father was mad when 
he turned the pistol first upon the only other 
man who knew the truth, and then upon him- 
self?” 

She stopped, sinking back in her chair, her 
breath coming fast. 


ONE YEAR 


187 


I looked at her, lost in amazement at so much 
rapidity and clearness of thought in a person whom 
I had always regarded as anything but intellectual. 
Yes, those deductions were doubtless correct; that 
might very well have been the way in which the 
thing had played itself out. To be sure this old 
woman had had eleven years to brood over a subject 
which to us was new in its essentials, so it was 
scarcely a wonder if she found her way more 
rapidly in the puzzle. She had had her theory lying 
all ready, so to say, with only the missing pieces to 
fit in. 

Jadwiga sprang to her feet, grasping at her head. 

But then Ludniki is not ours ! ’’ she cried, in 
a tone of acute anguish. It cannot be ours if 
all this is true. Whose is it. Mamma ? ” 

That is what we still have to find out,’’ said 
Madame Bielinska, more quietly. Ludniki be- 
longs to the man who was cheated that night in 
Paris. His name is nowhere in the letters, but I 
shall find it out, ah, yes, I shall certainly find it 
out, never fear ! The first thing to do is to write 
to that Paris solicitor and have every inquiry made 
concerning the Vicomte d’Urvain ; it is just pos- 
sible that he has left other papers which may give 
a further clue to the man we need. Besides there 
must be many men still alive who remember that 
Paris time. Lewicki was in Paris in the fifties ; 
possibly he can furnish me with names — but I 


i88 


ONE YEAR 


shall have to wait until he is back from Karlsbad 
for that. Oh, I shall find him — I shall find him 
yet!’’ 

“ And when you have found him ? ” I ventured 
to inquire. 

He shall be given back every penny that is his 
own,” she said, turning upon me her transfigured 
face. How I thank God that the sum is men- 
tioned in this first letter I It makes the matter 
simple. A hundred and twenty thousand francs — 
yes, of course, Ludniki will have to go ; we shall 
be poor, but we shall be free of that terrible 
shadow which has been choking me for eleven 
years — the stain shall be washed out ; as the resti- 
tution is tardy so it shall be full.” 

She looked toward her daughter as though in ex- 
pectance of an echo to her words, but Jadwiga, 
very pale, with eyes darkened by thought, was gaz- 
ing straight in front of her. 

“ It shall be full,” she repeated, after her mother, 
but without the mother’s strange enthusiasm, it 
shall be full, but the stain — no, nothing can ever 
wash the stain away.” 

When Doctor Kouski came he was, as Marya 
had surmised, not admitted. 

Tell him that it was only a stupid mistake of 
Marya’s, then give him some tea and send him 
away,” said Madame Bielinska decisively to Jad- 
wiga. Miss Middleton will perhaps stay here in 


ONE YEAR 


189 

the meantime while I dictate to her the letter for 
the French solicitor. If it goes back with the 
doctor to Zloczek, it will still catch the post.” 

Within the next half-hour the letter was written, 
consisting principally of a request for all informa- 
tion obtainable with regard to the late Vicomte 
d’Urvain, and in especial as to what was known of 
his end ; also as to whether any members of the 
family still survived, with whom it might be possible 
to enter into communication. 

The letter, although lengthy, was perfectly clear 
and vigorously expressed. Out of every word that 
she dictated to me there spoke the relief of a soul 
that has found its liberty at last — that after eleven 
years of surmises was able at last to take action. 
I have often since tried to imagine what those 
eleven years must have been like, but have never 
been able to grasp it y unless I may compare it to 
living shut up with a dangerous animal, whose face 
one has never seen, and the particulars of which 
one yet attempts to conjecture. To-day the mon- 
ster had shown its features and, however loathsome 
they were, I suppose there was a sort of mild re- 
lief in knowing the worst. No truth could be 
more terrible than the incertitude which had been 
sucking the life-blood from her. This, at last, is 
the only way in which I can explain to myself the 
abrupt change in my employer. 

That night on my way to bed I took my candle 


igo ONE YEAR 

into the room which lay beside the walled-up en- 
trance, and held it up to the portrait which hung 
there. Since knowing the man’s history I felt a 
need to look in his face. Yes, that was the face 
of exactly the man who would have written those 
letters — remorseful and penitent in the first over- 
whelming shame of the discovery, querulous and 
self-pitying as the shock of emotion passed. No 
man with that mouth could be very firm of will. 
With the absence of the warner the tottering re- 
solve would have tottered still further, and after 
his supposed death it is quite conceivable that, be- 
lieving himself free of the sole witness of his 
crime, the temptation of keeping both his money 
and the world’s esteem had proved too strong to be 
resisted. No one would ever know the details of 
that buried history, but with the materials already 
at hand it was not hard to reconstruct the outline. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Next morning Jadwiga appeared more animated, 
although the heavy eyelids spoke of tears shed 
under cover of darkness — tears of sham.e, as I well 
knew. The first stupor was passed, I could see, 
and she had caught sight of a saving thought. 

‘‘ I hope he will come early,” she said to me, as 
she convulsively pressed my hands. He is sure 
to come early in order to inquire after Mamma. 
I think I shall feel better when I have heard his 
words of sympathy ; Wladimir always finds the 
right thing to say.” 

And you mean to tell him everything ? ” I 
asked. 

She looked at me with boundless astonishment. 

“ Naturally ; how can I have a secret from him ? 
Is he not my future husband ? Does not that 
which touches me touch him ? Is not my grief 
his grief? ” 

“ Of course, of course,” I said, a little hastily, 
half ashamed of the thought which had crossed my 
mind. It is evident that he must know. But 
you must expect to see him a good deal — shaken 
by the news.” 

Shaken, of course ; whatever shakes me could 
191 


192 


ONE YEAR 


not leave him cold. But I know that I shall find 
his hand ready to support me. He shall be our 
staff on the thorny road we are about to tread. 
His sense of justice is so keen that I know he will 
feel with us that we have no choice.” 

Evidently it was no use to warn her. The pos- 
sibility of a disappointment had not even crossed 
her mind. In her eagerness and the natural crav- 
ing for the sympathy that, of course, was the most 
precious to her, she could scarcely await the mo- 
ment in which to announce to her lover that her 
father had been a scoundrel, and that she herself 
was portionless. 

I held my peace after that, although tormented 
by vague presentiments. What right, after all, had 
I to poison this sublime confidence ? Might not 
she be right, and I wrong ? How could I say that 
his love would not stand the test it was about to 
be put to ? 

Jadwiga had not very long to wait; soon after 
ten o’clock Wladimir was at the door. He began 
by sending in a discreet inquiry regarding Madame 
Bielinska’s health, and a message to say that he 
would return in the afternoon at the usual hour; 
but Jadwiga, unable to bear the delay, had him in- 
stantly summoned to the drawing-room. I ac- 
companied her only to the door and there some- 
thing made me take her into my arms and kiss her; 
after that I fled out into the park in terror of over- 


ONE YEAR 


193 


hearing any word of the painful explanation about 
to take place. My steps turned instinctively to- 
ward the rose-walk, but in my present mood I 
could see no beauty in it ; to my eyes there seemed 
to be more thorns than roses to-day, and so busy 
was my mind with the tragedy of the past that the 
petals spilled over-night upon the moist earth ap- 
peared to me as pools of recently shed blood. In 
the old rickety summerhouse the basket which 
Jadwiga had overturned yesterday still lay on its 
side, its contents strewn broadcast over the moss- 
grown floor. On the table the patterns of satin 
and brocade lay unheeded ; one or two had been 
carried away by the wind. I mechanically picked 
them out of the dewy grass. 

Presently Anulka joined me. For some minutes 
she walked in silence beside me ; then, having al- 
most forgotten her presence, I heard her piping 
voice beside me. 

“ What does cheating at cards mean exactly ? ’’ 

I turned with a start to find her bead-like eyes 
fixed watchfully upon my face. 

What makes you ask me that now ? ’’ I in- 
quired, with a dawning feeling of repulsion upon 
me. 

‘‘Something that I heard yesterday when you 
were talking with Jadwiga in her room.” 

“ But you were not there,” I objected, “ and the 
door was shut.” 


194 


ONE YEAR 


“ But the window was open/’ said Anulka, 
simply. 

This was not the first time that I had caught my 
pupil eavesdropping. She was the sort of child 
whose eyes and ears were always wide open, eager 
for excitement in any shape, and whose nervous 
vivacity kept her continually on the move. She 
would slip about as noiselessly and as deftly as a 
weasel, appearing at the most unexpected places 
and picking up scraps of information, of which for- 
tunately she could not digest the greater part. 

Having administered a suitable admonition, I 
added severely : 

“ Whatever you have heard you must not speak 
of it again, Anulka. It is a sad story which you 
cannot understand.” 

‘^That is what Marya says,” replied Anulka. 
‘‘ She thinks I must have heard wrong, but I 
am sure I did not. Jadwiga said quite plainly, 
‘ But that would be the same as cheating at 
cards.’ ” 

‘‘ Then you have spoken to Marya, too ? ” I 
asked with a feeling of desperation, foreseeing that 
the flood of tongues was loosened already. 

Of course, since I had nobody else to talk to 
last night ; you could not expect me to keep it to 
myself, could you ? But, dear Miss Middleton, do 
tell me how he did it. It can’t be easy to cheat at 
cards.” 


ONE YEAR 


195 


Hush, not so loud ! ’’ I said nervously, as I 
looked about me. 

But how did he do it ? ” she persisted. ‘‘ I 
want so much to know.’’ 

I resisted a little longer, but in the end there was 
nothing for it but to tell her of the looking-glass 
and of the temptation to which her unhappy father 
had yielded. She listened with keen attention, and 
at the end, to my horror, she clapped her hands. 

‘‘ Oh, what a good idea ! ” she gleefully ex- 
claimed. I wonder how nobody thought of that 
before. It just shows how clever he was.” 

Anulka,” I cried in consternation, what are 
you thinking of? It was so wrong a thing to do 
that your father suffered remorse for it all his life.” 

But it was only a game,” said Anulka, with 
perfect equanimity, so what could it matter ? ” 

I attempted an explanation, but not with much 
effect. She was evidently quite honest in her ina- 
bility to see the criminal side of the matter. 

“ In a game surely every one tries to get the best 
of it,” she objected to my strictures, “ and if he 
found a better way of doing so than the others, 
then why should he not use it ? If people don’t 
want to lose money, then they should not play 
cards. But it was stupid of him to let himself be 
caught,” she added in a tone of disapproval. 

I gave up any further attempt, knowing by ex- 
perience that the strange want of proportion in this 


196 


ONE YEAR 


curious child’s ideas of morality was not amenable 
to argument — as well discuss a difference of tints 
with a colour-blind person. It was not that she 
loved evil for its own sake, but that she was in- 
capable of recognising it under many of its forms. 
I have never held her quite responsible for a mental 
twist, which, together with her corporal defects, she 
probably owed to the circumstances of her birth. 

When at last I regained the house I found the 
big drawing-room empty, and presently came upon 
Jadwiga sitting alone on the verandah, with a book 
on her lap which she was pretending to read. One 
glance at her face showed me that the interview 
had not turned out exactly as she had expected. I 
did not say ‘‘ Well ? ” but I suppose my eyes said it 
for me, for she at once began to speak rather hur- 
riedly. 

‘‘ You were right,” she said with a nervous 
smile ; he was very much shaken ; I think almost 
more than I thought he would be. But that is 
natural ; it came upon him with such a surprise, 
just as it came upon me. By this afternoon he 
will have had time to recover from the first 
shock.” 

‘‘ He is gone ? ” I inquired. 

‘^Yes, of course; he only came in now to in- 
quire after Mamma; he was on his way to one of 
the farms — he has to replace his father now, you 
know, but he is coming back as usual.” 


ONE YEAR 


197 


I put a few more questions tentatively, and, al- 
though Jadwiga’s answers were unusually reserved, 
I yet managed to get a pretty clear picture of the 
interview just passed. Evidently Wladimir had 
been more than shaken, he had been simply over- 
whelmed by the revelation made to him, and, there- 
fore, not in a fit state to offer any support to Jad- 
wiga’s own distress. He had obviously been too 
horror-stricken to make any direct response to her 
wild appeal, and in the first moment unable to do 
anything, poor boy, but protest his unchanged af- 
fection. All this was natural enough considering 
his youth and the terrible nature of the disclosure 
made ; but what disturbed me was Jadwiga’s evi- 
dent anxiety to excuse him, and the look of per- 
plexed astonishment which had remained upon her 
face since her parting with him. 

I think I must have told him too abruptly,” 
she said. I am always so impatient. Wladimir 
is so entirely the soul of honour that, of course, 
this frightful disgrace makes him lose his head just 
at first,” and all the time she was watching my 
face, as though for corroboration of her own sen- 
timents. 

As the hour approached at which Wladimir’s 
appearance was to be expected I could see that a 
creeping uneasiness began to take hold of Jadwiga, 
an uneasiness which she was anxious to hide even 
from me, to whom her heart had yet been so com- 


198 


O N E Y E A R 


pletely open lately. But she was not made for 
concealment ; at every moment I could see her 
furtively consulting the jewelled toy of a watch that 
hung at her belt, while the transparency of the pre- 
texts she found for visiting the verandah, from 
where a view of the gate was to be commanded, 
was not calculated to deceive even a child. Wlad- 
imir had never been late before, and it was curious 
certainly that to-day of all days he should tarry 
behind the hour. To me it was evident that Jad- 
wiga was suffering acutely, but it was clear also 
that nothing would yet induce her to put her fears 
into words — doubtless the thought of doing so must 
have appeared to her as a treachery toward the man 
in whose loyalty she still believed with all the ar- 
dour of her young and romantically generous 
heart. The mere conception of his failing her in 
her need lay too far away from her own attitude of 
mind to be grasped in so short a time. 

“ He has been prevented by some accident,” she 
said to me once when our eyes met. “ I fear he 
may have fallen from his horse ; that is what makes 
me so uneasy.” And she looked at me as though 
daring me to throw doubt upon this assertion. 

I spent the afternoon between the garden and 
the house. Madame Bielinska had a little collapsed 
after the unusual strain of yesterday, but, although 
she remained in her room, it was not in her usual 
state of inaction. Every time I presented myself 


ONE YEAR 


199 


there to see whether she required anything I found 
her busy sorting papers and going over accounts. 
It was evident that she, too, was looking out for 
VVladimir’s arrival. 

“ Is he not there yet ? ” she asked me each time 
I entered. Be sure to send him in immediately. 
I want to ask him about his father’s plans and 
about when he is expected back. It is he who will 
be most likely to give me a clue. Is that not 
Wladimir ? ” and she lent an ear to a sound in the 
passage. ‘‘No, only Andrej’s step. By the way, 
Miss Middleton, I have promised Andrej to send 
some mustard plasters to his wife — she has a pain 
in her chest, it seems. If you want a walk per- 
haps you would be so good as to take them to her, 
and also show her how to put them on ? ” 

The grey-haired footman was a married man, 
whose domestic hearth, whither he returned every 
day at night-fall, was situated at the far end of the 
village. The fact of Madame Bielinska charging 
me with an errand of the sort was to me an addi- 
tional proof of the revolution produced by yester- 
day’s events. Her interest, even in the details of 
life, seemed to have abruptly revived — and to think 
that it was the discovery of her husband’s disgrace 
which had given back to her her power of living ! 
Surely the human heart can never be quite ex- 
plained. 

It was drawing toward evening by this time. 


200 


ONE YEAR 


and the chances of seeing Wladimir again that day 
were fast fading. I went in search of Jadwiga, 
assured that the walk would do her good, but at the 
mere suggestion she shrank back. 

Outside the gate ? Oh, no, I could not go 
outside the gate,” she said. I should feel as 
though every one knew the story already.” 

I next looked out for Anulka, whom I had not 
seen for some time. It was in the big drawing- 
room that I found her, installed in front of a green 
table, and going through some strange manipula- 
tions with a pack of playing-cards. So engrossed 
was she in her game that she did not notice my ap- 
proach, and it was only when I stood close beside 
her that I understood what she was doing, for 
straight opposite hung the long rococo mirror, in 
which she was amusing herself by reflecting the 
undersides of the cards in her hand, naming them 
aloud as she did so, and then turning them over to 
see if she was right. 

‘‘Ten of clubs — knave of diamonds,” she kept 
on saying like a lesson ; and then burst into a little 
squeal of delight whenever she saw that it tallied. 

“ Leave that, Anulka ! ” I said indignantly, 
snatching the cards from her hands, but she only 
grinned up delightedly into my face. 

“ It is quite easy,” she assured me eagerly. “ I 
believe I could do it, too. Look ! You have 
only to hold them like this.” 


ONE YEAR 


201 


I wanted to insist on her coming out with me, 
but, perhaps because of my nerves being off their 
balance, my authority failed, and when a few min- 
utes later I passed by the open window I could 
still hear the voice of the uncanny child de- 
claiming, ‘‘Seven of hearts — six of clubs — queen 
of ” 

Andrej’s hut lay near the big fish pond and down 
a narrow lane confined between high palings of 
wattled willows. The willows, which had orig- 
inally served as stakes, had, for the most part, taken 
root too, and grown up into considerable trees of 
the pollard order, whose heads almost met across 
the lane, which, consequently, was not very light, 
even at noonday. Just now, when it was dusk in 
the chief village street, it was almost dark here, 
and, seen through the descending shadows, the ir- 
regularly grown willows, with their round tops and 
queerly contorted branches, had something weirdly 
human about them. 

I had discharged my errand and was returning 
along this gloomy and tortuous passage when, on 
coming round a corner of the paling, I was startled 
to see what seemed to be one of the willow trees 
step out of its place and stand still in the middle 
of the road, as though to bar the passage. I stood 
still instinctively, but at that moment the willow 
spoke in a well-known voice. 

“ It is I, Miss Middleton, do not be angry, but I 


202 


ONE YEAR 


saw you passing, and followed you here, because I 
must speak to you/’ 

The tone was so deeply moved that it somewhat 
modified the displeasure with which I answered, 

‘‘ You, Pan Lewicki ? Why here, and not at 
the house ? We have been expecting you all the 
afternoon.” 

“ I know, I know ! ” he said, wildly grasping at 
his temples as he spoke. “I have been close at 
hand for hours, but how could I present myself 
before I had got absolute clearness in this terrible 
affair ? I kept hoping for some chance; I wanted 
to speak to you before I spoke to her, and now 
that fortune has favoured me you will not refuse 
to tell me all you know. I am mad ! I tell you, 
mad with perplexity, and only the fullest light can 
help me.” 

“ But you have had the fullest light,” I an- 
swered sadly. “ Jadwiga says that she told you 
all.” 

‘‘ Then it is true, actually true ? ” he questioned 
distractedly. “ I thought that perhaps her imagi- 
nation had run wild. She spoke of letters, but I 
did not see them — have you seen them ? Tell me 
what is written there — every word you can re- 
member. After all I have a right to know.”, 

There was no denying this, he had the right to 
know. In a few words I gave him my version of 
the case, as well as the conclusions drawn by 


ONE YEAR 


203 


Madame Bielinska. He listened breathlessly, often 
interrupting me with exclamations of distress and 
astonishment. 

Then there is no doubt at all in your mind ? ” 
he asked in a tone of acute anxiety. Her father 
was no, I cannot say it here, not even in a strange 
tongue, for fear of listening ears.” 

You need not be so careful ! ” I replied, “it 
would be wasted pains. Soon if I am not mis- 
taken, what I have told you to-day will be pro- 
claimed upon the house-tops, — they themselves will 
proclaim it.” 

He looked at me aghast; even in the thick dusk 
I could see his brown eyes open wide. 

“ They themselves ? You do not mean to say 
that they will tell the world the story ? ” 

“ The mother certainly will ; indeed she must if 
she wants to make restitution, and that is her one 
idea at present.” 

“ Restitution, yes, but need it be public ? Why 
brand oneself with one’s own hands ? Surely no 
one need know but the wronged man alone ? ” 

“ But the wronged man has to be searched for 
first, and that scarcely can be done in secret. And, 
beside, how would you explain to the world this 
sudden change of fortune ? No, I fear that ex- 
posure is inevitable.” 

I could see how at the word “ exposure ” he 
shrank back, as though at some unpleasant touch. 


204 


ONE YEAR 


Then, suddenly, a paroxysm of despair seemed to 
seize him. We had been slowly walking on dur- 
ing those last minutes. Now Wladimir stood still 
abruptly. Close beside him there was a big stone, 
one of those used as stiles in crossing the pailing, 
for there were no openings all along the lane. 
Wladimir sat down upon this, and there before my 
eyes he burst into tears. 

Oh Jadwiga ! my poor, poor Jadwiga ! ” he 
sobbed, evidently from the bottom of his heart. 

How will you bear it ? ” 

She bears it bravely,” I said, looking down at 
him curiously, ‘‘ and the support of your love will 
help her to bear it better still.” 

I don’t know with what intention I said this, 
but I believe it was by way of experiment. 

He buried his face a little deeper in his hands. 

“ Be still ! ” he said, in a tone of real suffering. 
‘‘You don’t know how you hurt me, oh pray be 
still!” 

“ But do you love her ? ” I asked, a little merci- 
lessly perhaps. 

“With all my heart,” he readily replied. Then, 
rising to his feet, “You tell her that, will you 
not ? ” and in his eagerness he laid his hand on my 
arm. “ You tell her I love her as deeply as ever ? ” 

“ Why do you not tell her so yourself?” I 
asked. “ Come with me now and you will need 
no messenger.” 


ONE YEAR 


205 


Not to-day,” he said quickly. “ I am not yet 
enough master of myself to-day. How do I know 
that in my trouble of mind I may not use some 
word that would wound her ? No, it is better not 
to-day.” 

And, as though afraid of further argument, he 
turned and walked away hastily, quickly disappear- 
ing in the gloom of the narrow lane, in which I 
was left standing alone, but very busy with my 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER XIV 


I DID not give Jadwiga Wladimir’s message, 
nor did I even mention to her my meeting with 
him in the village. To do so would only have 
been to augment the suspense she was evidently 
undergoing. If my suspicions were correct, then 
she would soon know more than I could tell her. 
But the end was nearer than I imagined. 

On the following forenoon I was busy with 
Anulka in the schoolroom, when the door was 
flung open, and Jadwiga entered, holding an open 
letter in her hand. I had seen her in various 
moods, but never in anything resembling this. 
Her black eyes flamed in a face of an almost 
corpse-like whiteness, her dilated nostrils worked, 
and she was evidently breathing with difficulty. I 
rose in alarm, interrogating her with my eyes, and 
fully prepared for a calamity. 

She could not speak immediately, but with a 
silent and imperative gesture she indicated her 
sister, and I understood and ordered Anulka from 
the room, taking the precaution this time of shut- 
ting the window as well as the door. 

“ Here ! ” said Jadwiga, at last, in a voice that 
she was evidently struggling to keep low, but 
206 


ONE YEAR 


207 


which vibrated in every tone. ‘‘ It has come ; read 
this ! ” 

But this is written in Polish ! ” I said, glancing 
at the sheet she held toward me. 

To be sure, I forgot ; I think I must be a little 
mad. Well, an outline will do ; it isn’t difficult 
to understand. He loves me as much as ever — so 
it is written here — he never can be happy again in 
his life — do you want to know why ? Because his 
duty as a son calls upon him to keep himself clear 
of the stain which has revealed itself on our family 
shield. His father would never survive the shame 
of being brought into connection with anything that 
smells of dishonour — he doesn’t say it like that, 
you know, it is much more beautifully expressed, 
but that is what it means — and his conscience, 
with which he has been struggling since yesterday, 
forbids him to bring those white hairs to the grave. 
There is a great deal more about the agony of 
tearing out one’s own heart with one’s own hands, 
and there is also a gleam of hope held out. If the 
matter could be kept dark, if the restitution could 
be made in secret, might it not be possible to escape 
the shame, both for ourselves and for him ? He 
implores me to think over the matter once more, 
to induce my mother to think it over; it is the 
only chance of happiness he can see, for if there 
was no exposure then there would be no shame in 
the eyes of the world ; and he loves me so much 


2o8 


ONE YEAR 


that he is ready to bear the secret knowledge of my 
father’s guilt — but only so long as it remains 
secret, you understand. In other words he wants 
to bargain with me — with Eleanor ! He makes 
his conditions, he calculates his sacrifices : he will 
go thus far and no farther : my love is worth this to 
him, and not that. Great God, why is the shame 
not his instead of mine ? Why was not his father 
a thief or a forger, that he should see, and the 
world should see that love, the real love, is able to 
laugh at everything outside itself? But this love 
— this ! ” — and she flung the paper contemptuously 
on the table — this has the worth of the paper and 
ink it is written with, no more ! Oh, Eleanor, 
are all men like that ? ” 

She had spoken in short sentences, fetching her 
breath audibly at each pause : by degrees only her 
broken voice rose to a shriller key, and the passion- 
ate sentences grew more fluent. In the last words 
there was a ring of such heart-rending despair that 
I felt tears of acute pity starting to my eyes. 

Not all,” I said gently, and as I said it I 
thought of two men — one was Henry, dead to me 
now, but of whom I instinctively knew that, sup- 
posing he had gained me, nothing short of death 
would have induced him to give me up again; the 
other was Krysztof Malewicz. This one, too, I 
had not even put to the test, but felt calmly certain 
of the result. 


ONE YEAR 


209 


‘‘I am dismissed,” went on Jadwiga, fixing her 
dangerously brilliant eyes upon me — ^‘you under- 
stand j I am told that I am not worth the loss of 
the world’s esteem, and the man who tells me so 
is the same whom I believed was ready to die at 
my slightest word — he has told me so a hundred 
times. What have I done to be punished for my 
father’s sin ? Am I different from what I was be- 
fore those letters came ? Have I different eyes than 
then, a different mouth, a different mind ? Am I 
less desirable ? His duty to his father ! Oh, it 
enrages me to hear him talk of it ; what is his duty 
to his father compared to his duty toward me, who 
was to have been his wife ? Oh, how badly we 
have understood each other all the time ! Wladi- 
mir, Wladimir, what would I not have done for 
you — no, not for you^ but for the man I believed 
you were ! ” 

And, with features convulsed with pain, she let 
herself drop on to the chair which Anulka had 
quitted, and, laying her face on the table, sobbed 
convulsively yet without tears. 

Presently she looked up. “Tell me, Eleanor,” 
she asked in a voice exhausted by emotion, “ did 
you know it would come like this ? Why do you 
look so little surprised ? ” 

“ I could not know it would come like this, but 
I am not very much surprised. It seems to me the 
only thing that Wladimir could do — wait a mo- 


210 


ONE YEAR 


ment/’ I added, seeing her look of surprised indig- 
nation — I don’t mean what he could do, being a 
man, but being Wladimir.” 

Then his love for me has been a farce ? ” 

‘‘ No, not a farce ; although it is not enough for 
you, it has been the best he can give. What he 
writes here isn’t a lie, he loves you, but it is simply 
that he has not got the mental vigour necessary to 
do without the world’s esteem, not that sort of 
grim sturdiness which makes it possible to defy 
public opinion. He is not a monster of any sort, 
and, Jadwiga, my poor child, believe me, he never 
was worthy of you.” 

“Why do you call me poor?” she retorted in 
an instant. “ I am not to be pitied, it seems to 
Aie I am to be envied, since I have discovered in 
time to what a weakling I was about to sacrifice 
myself. I might have been bound to him for life 
before the discovery came. But it hurts here, it 
hurts here all the same,” and she laid her clenched 
hand on her heart. “ It is like seeing a friend die ; 
my Wladimir is dead to-day, and nothing can ever 
make him alive again.” 

After that, for some moments, she sank into 
silence, brooding, with her eyes on the table. 
Suddenly, a hard smile flickered across her face, 
worse to see than the look of pain of a minute 
ago. 

“ And this Wladimir thinks I shall grasp at the 


ONE YEAR 


2II 


hope he holds out ! Secrecy — dead secrecy — on 
that condition he may yet consent to make me 
happy, and he does not yet know that I want none 
of that happiness. Quick, Eleanor, quick — paper 
and pen ! The messenger is still outside ; he must 
not be left in his false belief for one minute longer 
than can be helped. Oh, give me any paper 
quickly ! ” 

The colour was flowing over her face now, as, 
with fingers which more than trembled, which 
visibly jerked with excitement, she dipped the pen 
into the ink and began writing hastily on the sheet 
I pushed toward her. What she exactly said in 
the few lines which formed all the answer to 
Wladimir’s lengthy epistle, I do not know, but as 
I watched her quivering lips and the light that 
escaped like sparks of fire from under her black 
eyelashes, I know that, despite the contemptuous 
indignation in my heart, I felt sorry for the man 
who was to read those lines, and who, after all, 
loved her as well as he understood how to love. 

There actually is something to be said in his 
excuse,” I find myself writing at this juncture to 
Agnes, to whom I had already given a brief out- 
line of the situation, for the test he was put to 
was no light one, and how make him responsible 
for the limitations of his nature ? I had taken his 
measure long ago, and I now see that I had taken 
it correctly. When a man is so distinctly, I should 


212 


ONE YEAR 


like to say, so ostentatiously, ornamental, it awakes 
the idea, does it not, that he must almost necessarily 
be rather useless ? Ask this sort of man to turn 
music and to hand cups — oh, yes, by all means — 
but not to stand firm in a moral earthquake. He 
seems to me to want an audience for everything he 
does — an admiring one, of course. He lives 
chronically on a platform, and requires to be ap- 
plauded. This it is that makes him so intensely 
dependent on other people’s opinion, and this it is 
also that makes him spare no pains in order to win 
sympathy. I understand perfectly now how he 
could spend an hour with me on that tree trunk in 
autumn, and what made him wade into the muddy 
water to fetch out Anulka. He loved Jadwiga 
then already, but it was not only because he loved 
her that he sacrificed his boots, it was also to tri- 
umphantly refute the accusation of effeminacy 
which I had just been pronouncing against his 
nation. He is so hungry of approval that he will 
jump up to take Kasia’s basket for her, since even 
a kitchen-maid’s sympathy is precious to him. All 
this sort of thing gives him the appearance of al- 
ways thinking of others, so much so that most 
people never find out that he is only a more refined, 
I should like to say, a more artistic, egoist from the 
usual kind. He would not harm anybody for the 
world, I am sure of that ; he is ready to sacrifice 
even his comforts to his fellow-creatures so long as 


ONE YEAR 


213 


he is rewarded by their love and esteem. I ab- 
solve him from any mercenary motives in his pres- 
ent conduct. I never suspected him of wanting 
Jadwiga’s money, and I do not accuse him of 
abandoning her because he finds out that the money 
is not hers ; mere money and mere physical com- 
fort have no intense value for him. It is not these 
things, but popularity, which is his passion. How 
could you expect such a man to take upon himself 
the disgrace which will for ever attach to the name 
of Bielinski ? And how should he ever live up to 
Jadwiga’s exalted ideals, or satisfy the really ex- 
travagant demands she makes upon a man’s devo- 
tion ? I believe she’s right, and that she is to be 
congratulated instead of condoled with on having 
found out her mistake in time.” 

I have only a few more words to say of 
Wladimir before he disappears from the scene of 
the drama which I am attempting to present. 
After our meeting in the village I only saw him 
once more, and, to the best of my knowledge, 
this was also the last time that Jadwiga set eyes 
upon him. 

I never imagined that, after the exchange of let- 
ters, he would have the courage to show his face at 
Ludniki, but I was mistaken. Those few lines of 
which I had watched the writing had evidently 
acted like the sting of a whip-cord, for, on the 
evening of that same day, Jadwiga and I, coming 


214 


ONE YEAR 


back slowly along the rose-walk, where I had in- 
duced her to take an evening stroll, saw a well- 
known figure advancing toward us. Jadwiga 
checked her steps for just a perceptible interval, 
and I saw the colour leaving her face. Then she 
walked on as before, only tightening her hold upon 
my arm, within which her hand lay. 

“ Shall I tell him that you cannot receive him ? ” 
I whispered, for there still was time for her to turn 
off by a side walk. 

For what good ? ” she replied in a voice that 
sounded only a little more metallic than usual. 
“ I am not afraid of meeting him ; it is better so.” 

Although she was not afraid, it was evident that 
he was. As he drew near, the perturbation on his 
features was easy to read, but greater than the per- 
turbation was a sort of acute anxiety which seemed 
to dominate every other emotion. 

When she was within half-a-dozen paces of him 
Jadwiga stood still, and, with a coolness so icy that 
it actually sent a shiver of compassion down my 
back — compassion for the man to whom it was ad- 
dressed — put some questions in Polish. I under- 
stood enough of the language by this time to guess 
that she was asking whether he had not received 
her letter. 

When he at length succeeded in speaking he did 
so with almost incoherent eagerness. He explained 
chat it was just because he had got the letter that 


ONE YEAR 


215 


he was here — that he could not believe that she was 
serious in what she had written ; then a few more 
words in an imploring tone before I caught the 
word father/’ 

‘‘ Will you believe it, if you hear me speak it ? ” 
asked Jadwiga. No, you shall stay there,” she 
said turning almost fiercely upon me, for, painfully 
conscious of the superfluity of my presence, I had 
been meanwhile gently trying to disengage my arm, 
but Jadwiga’s delicate fingers held me as though 
they had been steel claws. I have no secrets to 
talk about to Mr. Lewicki,” she continued, talking 
now in French. I am glad to have a witness to 
what I have to say, and it is this : that hencefor- 
ward this gentleman is of no more account to me 
than the least of the peasants who bend their heads 
before me on the road — oh, of much less — for 
many of them are brave and honourable men, 
while you,” and she fixed her flaming eyes full on 
his face — “ I do not care who hears me — you are 
a coward — a traitor and a coward — and, although I 
should live to be a hundred years, I shall never for- 
give myself for having loved you.” 

At this his perturbation seemed to vanish for a 
time, forced back by the insult to his pride. His 
fair face flushed dark red up to his golden hair 
roots, and I saw his fingers closing against his 
palms. In that moment he looked anything but 
despicable. 


2i6 


ONE YEAR 


‘‘If a man were to say that to me — ” he began 
with difficulty, but she interrupted him. 

“You would invite him to cross swords with 
you, and would imagine that that washed you clean 
of the name of coward. Bah ! it is not of that sort 
of courage I am talking ; that is the common, the 
vulgar sort ; every man who is not a Jew and not a 
cripple has plenty of that, I make no doubt. I 
speak of the rarer, nobler courage, the courage of 
the heart; and you cannot give me the lie with 
your sword in your hand because I am not a 
man, only a woman, whom one does not fight, but 
whom one can betray and abandon, and leave 
standing alone in the moment when she most needs 
support.” 

There was a slight vibration in her voice, and 
before this momentary evidence of emotion Wladi- 
mir’s indignant attitude instantly succumbed. 

“Jadwiga, Jadwiga ! ” he cried, taking his 
head between his hands. “ Do not judge me so 
harshly ; do not be so absolutely merciless ! 
Could you expect me to kill my father by this 
sorrow ? ” 

“I expect everything of the man who loves me,” 
she replied with as magnificent a disdain as though 
she did not know herself to be almost a beggar, 
with a knave for a father. 

“Jadwiga, be merciful!” cried the unhappy 
man again distractedly. There were tears in his 


ONE YEAR 


217 


eyes, but there were none in hers ; and yet there 
was a little pain on her face, too, as she gazed at 
him across the few paces of ground that divided 
them. No doubt she was taking her last look at 
her Wladimir, who, after all, bore the same face 
and form as the one that stood before her. 

‘‘ If it were only myself I had to think of — ” 
he began again. 

I know — I know, you told me all that in your 
letter,” said Jadwiga. It seems to me that the 
subject is exhausted,” and she began to move on 
again, taking me with her. But this seemed to 
make Wladimir wild. 

“ Stop ! stop ! ” he implored her, standing so as 
to bar our passage. “ Say at least that you believe 
in my love — you must see that I am suffering. 
Circumstances are too strong for me, but this I 
know, that I shall never love another woman as I 
have loved you.” 

Oh, yes, I will say that I believe in your 
love,” answered Jadwiga readily and indifferently, 
if that is any satisfaction to you ; only it is not 
the same sort of thing that goes by that name with 
me. Our opinions on that subject evidently lie too 
far apart to make a discussion of any use.” 

“ And that you do not despise me — that you can 
understand my motives, even if you do not sub- 
scribe to them. I could not bear to live with the 
thought of your contempt ! ” 


2i8 


ONE YEAR 


This, then, was the real kernel of the matter. 
To lose the esteem of the person he certainly held 
highest in the world, what agony this thought must 
have brought to the Wladimir whom I had just 
been describing to Agnes. This it was which had 
given him the courage to brave Jadwiga’s anger by 
presenting himself once more. He had come here 
not to beg to be taken back into favour, but to 
wring from her some faint and far-off admission 
of esteem — a word, not of forgiveness, but of 
justification. But he might have known Jadwiga 
better. 

Without replying she again moved a step for- 
ward, and this time, in terror of seeing her escape 
before the saving word was spoken, Wladimir for- 
got himself so far as to lay his hand upon her sleeve, 
as within the last weeks he had done so often with 
impunity. 

No, no ! ” he cried, you shall not go until 
you have said that you understand.’’ 

I felt a more convulsive movement of the hand 
on my arm, as Jadwiga, standing still again, slowly 
looked her lover all over. 

Shall not go ? ” she repeated, and the disdain 
in voice and eyes was such that I wondered 
the man could bear it. ‘‘ Do you not forget that 
I am in my home, and that there are servants 
enough in the house ? aye, and with strong arms, 
too ! ” 


ONE YEAR 


219 


Then, as he fell back, as though before a blow, 
she walked past him without either another word 
or another glance, without even hastening her pace, 
as she leisurely pursued her way down the walk. 
Nothing but her set features and the strain of her 
fingers upon my arm betrayed the excitement which 
must have been raging within her. To look at us 
both I am sure that I must have appeared the more 
disturbed of the two, for I was trembling a little 
with the emotion of what was just passed, and 
threw stolen and apprehensive glances into the 
beautiful face beside me. The upper lip was 
slightly lifted, disclosing the small teeth beneath, 
which in this moment looked almost menacingly 
white. 

We had not yet reached the €nd of the walk 
when she said with a deep breath : — 

‘T am glad that it came that way.” 

In my heart of hearts I was sorry for Wladimir, 
but in that moment I simply had not the courage 
to say it. 


CHAPTER XV 


It has been said that in the afflictions of our 
best friends we find something not displeasing to 
ourselves ; but surely, if this be so, there must be 
something wrong, either with ourselves or our 
friends. At any rate, in the days I am writing I 
experienced the exact reverse. So completely had 
I got used to looking for my sunshine from one 
quarter, that now it failed me my life seemed to 
grow suddenly dark. In Jadwiga’s happiness I 
had sought to find a reflection of that which I had 
never possessed, and, for want of all other causes 
of joy, I had succeeded so well in identifying my- 
self with her, that the blow fell on me only with 
less force than on her. It almost seemed to me 
that I had lost Henry over again. All those 
gentle memories that had been lulled to sleep with 
my songs of rejoicing over Jadwiga’s bliss, stirred 
in their graves and threatened to climb out again, 
now that my voice was suddenly silenced. Every 
hour I had spent with Henry in long-past childish 
days, each ramble we had taken, each rabbit we 
had reared, each scrape we had got into in com- 
mon, began to come back to my mind with annoy- 
ing persistency. To reflect on the falseness of 
220 


ONE YEAR 


221 


Jadwiga’s lover was to bring the worth of a true 
lover home to me as it had never before been 
brought home, and uneasily I asked myself, in- 
fected perhaps by her idealism, whether I had after 
all been right in separating myself thus decisively 
from the man of whom I could not help thinking 
that he loved me still. It was startling to find the 
wound so fresh, after nine months of separation. 
Would it ever heal ? And did his heart ever ache 
as mine was now aching ? 

And all this because Jadwiga had lost Wladimir ! 

By Jadwiga’s wish it was I who announced the 
truth to Madame Bielinska. 

I do not want to speak of him even to my 
mother,” she said to me on the evening of the 
meeting in the park. ‘‘ Go in and tell her that I 
have dismissed him and that I never want to hear 
his name again.” 

I found Madame Bielinska in her room, busily 
occupied with the papers among which she now 
spent her days. She looked up as I entered. 

‘‘ I have been making a calculation,” she said, 
without giving me time to speak, and I think I 
have got it almost right. You know it is not only 
the capital we owe, by this time, there is the in- 
terest as well, and since the sum is owing now for 
more than thirty years, the interest calculated at 
five per cent, comes to more than the original 
capital, which means that instead of sixty thousand 


222 


ONE YEAR 


we owe a hundred and fifty thousand florins.” And 
she looked at me with the air of a person who has 
made an entirely satisfactory discovery. Would 
you mind looking it over just to see if I am right ? ” 
Presently,” I said, ‘^but just now I have some- 
thing else to tell you.” And I gave her the sum 
of Jadwiga’s message. She listened at first without 
much interest, but gradually more closely. 

You mean that the engagement is broken off? ” 
she asked at last. 

‘^Yes,” I said. 

A cloud came over her face : she leant back in 
her chair with an air of discouragement. 

^‘That is bad,” she murmured; ^^that is very 
bad, I had hoped so much from Bazyli Lewicki.” 

^‘From Wladimir,” I corrected; I too had 
hoped better things from him.” 

No, I do not mean Wladimir,” she said sharply. 

I am speaking of Bazyli ; it is he alone who 
could give me a clue ; and now, if there has been 
a break, how do I know that he will be willing to 
help me ? ” 

“But Jadwiga!” I said, aghast at this attitude 
which I took for callousness, but which was only 
the unavoidable result of complete absorption in 
one idea. Have you no word for her and for 
what she is suffering ? ” 

She looked at me with her great cavernous eyes 
which were almost as much socket as eyeball ; she 


ONE YEAR 


223 


seemed to be laboriously forcing herself to my 
view of the case. 

‘‘Yes Jadwiga,” she said abstractedly, “I am 
sorry for her, poor child. No,” she went on sud- 
denly in another and more decisive tone, “ I am 
not sorry for her; she has escaped much if she has 
escaped from the hands of a man who is capable 
of baseness. What think you : would she bear be- 
ing tied to a master whom she cannot honour ? ” 

By the ring in the tone of her strained voice, 
and by the twitch at the corners of her bloodless 
lips I knew that she was thinking of the man whose 
portrait hung in that uninhabited room. 

It was only for a minute that Madame Bielinska 
had been torn out of her dominant train of thought. 

“ After all,” she began again, “ even if the young 
people have separated that is no reason for the old 
people not to put their heads together. I shall 
send for Bazyli the moment he is back; he cannot 
well refuse to answer a simple question. Yes, I 
think I need have no fear,” and her countenance 
cleared. “And now. Miss Middleton, would you 
just run your eye over this paper; I was never very 
strong in figures.” 

This was only the first of many calculations I 
was asked to make during these days, while we 
were sitting still, so to say, waiting for the answer 
from the Parisian attorney, which was to bring us 
the certainty of the Vicomte’s identity with the 


224 


ONE YEAR 


murdered monk. In default of any more active 
step, which it would have been possible to take at 
present, Madame Bielinska lived almost entirely 
in figures. Now and then she would appear at 
meal-times, and sometimes even get as far as the 
garden, and to see her in the full sunlight seemed 
like the resurrection of a dead body. To me she 
had become almost talkative, but always only on 
one subject. 

Do you think it quite impossible that the resti- 
tution should, after all, have been already made ? ” 
I asked her once. Might he not have carried 
out his plan of letting his adversary win back the 
sum ? and might not the loss have been subse- 
quently covered by other rightful gains ? ” 

She shook her head decisively^ . 

“ It is well known that Hazimir never touched 
cards again after that journey to Paris, — it was his 
last. There were many jokes made at the time 
on the subject of his conversion ; that is proof 
enough that he did not carry out his plan.’’ 

I was silenced, of course ; indeed the moral evi- 
dence was too strong to be withstood. It was a 
dawning circumstance, certainly, that the person 
who had known him best should be the one to 
believe most readily in his guilt. 

In all these discussions Jadwiga took no part. 
She was scarcely the same Jadwiga she had been 
before the reception of that letter which she had 


ONE YEAR 


225 


brought into the schoolroom. That flash of out- 
raged pride seemed to have been as the death-cry 
of something stricken. After that supreme effort 
her forces broke. Never could I have believed 
that that haughty head could droop as I saw it 
droop. Seeing her so still and so white the mother , 
made the mistake of believing that she was pining 
after her lover, but the first attempted word of 
sympathy brought her an answer which could not 
be understood. 

I sigh after him ? ’’ she replied, turning indig- 
nantly upon her mother, and the fire coming back 
to her eyes for one moment. Am I your own 
child, and do you know me as little as this ? 
What is he to me ? Nothing — nothing at all. I 
swear to you that not even in the night when no 
one sees me have I shed one tear for him ! no, 
not so much as a sigh have I spent — he is not 
worth as much as that. Oh, it is not that — it is 
not that at all ! ” 

And really it was not that. 

It was no love-sick yearnings under which she 
was sinking, not her lover’s abandonment which 
was crushing her, but only the weight of the shame 
which that abandonment seemed to have finally 
brought home to her. To see him shrink was 
unavoidably to magnify in her eyes the thing be- 
fore which he shrank. By nature, by the whole 
constitution of her mind, Jadwiga was far less 


226 


ONE YEAR 


armed against a shock of this particular kind than 
was her mother. To her almost fantastically ideal 
conception of right and wrong, to her romantic 
admiration of nobleness and purity in any shape, 
the revelation of her father’s baseness could not be 
otherwise than overwhelming, and she had not her 
mother’s strange enthusiasm to support her. Love 
alone could have helped her in this crisis, and love 
had failed her. 

‘‘The thing is really not so bad for you as for 
me,” Madame Bielinska once remarked dispassion- 
ately. “You could not choose your father for 
yourself, while I did choose my husband.” 

But Jadwiga made no response. She had 
never been really intimate with her mother, and 
even to me she avoided putting into words the 
true cause of her sufferings. In her grief she 
proved far more reticent than she had been in 
her joy. 

Meanwhile it was clear to me that reports were 
beginning to spread. The servants looked at me 
doubtfully, as though longing to put questions and 
not quite daring, and Marya once ventured to ask : 
“ It is not true, is it, that the place is to be sold ? ” 
and immediately afterward, “ Why does the young 
gentleman never visit the young lady now ? ” 
which showed one clearly that the two circum- 
stances were instinctively connected, even by the 
outside mind. 


ONE YEAR 


227 


Anulka has been chattering/’ I said indignantly 
to Madame Bielinska. Is there no way of keep- 
ing that child’s tongue tied ? ” 

She only looked at me wonderingly. What 
for ? ” she asked. If I thought that Marya could 
give me any clue I would speak to her about it 
myself.” 

I have sometimes wondered whether Madame 
Bielinska was quite in her right mind at that time. 
But for this explanation there would have been 
something almost indecent in her frankness. It 
was at the time of Madame Malewicz’s visit that 
this propensity showed itself most crudely. 

I half suspect the old lady was sent by her son. 
What reports had reached his ears I do not know, 
but he cannot have been aware of Wladimir’s de- 
parture, for immediately after his* last appearance 
at Ludniki, Wladimir had rejoined his father at 
Karlsbad. There was food enough for surmise in 
this circumstance alone. 

When the carriage drove up to the door we 
were sitting with Madame Bielinska in her own 
room. At the mere sound of the wheels Jadwiga 
had started to her feet. 

Visitors ! ” she said in an accent almost of 
terror. Surely you are not going to receive 
them. Mamma ? ” 

“ It depends on who it is,” replied Madame 
Bielinska composedly. 


228 


ONE YEAR 


Meanwhile I had recognised the occupant of the 
carriage. 

Malwina Malewicz ? ” said my employer 
brightening. “ Oh, bring her in, by all means ; 
she has always taken an interest in everything con- 
cerning us.” 

Jadwiga had already disappeared from the room, 
so it fell to me to receive the visitor. 

When I reached the entrance Madame Malewicz 
was still laboriously descending from the carriage. 
There was only one servant to help her out, you 
see, and, to judge from the helplessness with which 
she groped about for her belongings, and attempted 
to guard her skirt from the wheel, and anxiously 
looked out for the proper spot on which to place 
her exquisite little foot, she would have required at 
least half-a-dozen. 

“ I am so stupid,” she said radiantly, catching 
sight of me. I go out driving so little now that 
I quite forget the way. There — I think I have 
got everything now — except my fan; where can 
that be, I wonder ? If Krysztof were here he 
would find it immediately — he always finds my 
things. Oh, dear ; oh, dear ! What a bother it 
is to grow old, to be sure.” 

At last I got her safely landed in the dressing- 
room, where she required a glass of raspberry juice 
and water to refresh her after her recent efforts, as 
well as a few minutes to put her hair into order. 


ONE YEAR 


229 


Although she was only going to see another old 
woman like herself, she yet arranged her delicate 
silver curls, as coquettishly before the glass as 
though she had been eighteen. All this time she 
scarcely stopped talking — about the roads and the 
weather chiefly — but I could see by her face that 
something else was coming. It came as she sipped 
her raspberry juice, preparatory to penetrating into 
Madame Bielinska’s apartment. 

‘‘Tell me,’* she said, growing suddenly grave, 
“ is it true what people say ? ” 

“ I don’t know what they say,” I answered. 

“ All sorts of things — but I mean now about the 
marriage. Is it actually off ? ” 

“ That certainly is true.” 

“ Quite off? ” she urged, with deepening inter- 
est. “ Not merely a lovers’ quarrel ? ” 

“ So entirely off,” I assured her, “ that I know 
of no power on earth that could ever bring it on 
again.” 

“ Dear, dear ! ” she said, rocking her head gently 
from side to side, “ this is sudden, certainly, and 
very sad.” But she did not look sad exactly as 
she said it, and by a little spark in the corners of 
her lively black eyes I knew that she was thinking 
of Krysztof, of whose attachment she must have 
been aware. “ And the reason,” she added tenta- 
tively. “I suppose it would be indiscreet to in- 
quire the reason ? ” 


230 


ONE YEAR 


It certainly would be indiscreet of me to give 
it you,” I replied, but I don’t think you will be 
kept in ignorance for long.” And at that moment 
Marya came to say that Madame Bielinska was 
ready to receive the gracious lady. 

I did not see Madame Malewicz again that day, 
and so was not able to judge of the effect of the 
disclosures which, according to my surmises, my 
employer had made to her. 

You see, she is an old friend of the family,” 
Madame Bielinska explained to me half apologetic- 
ally, ‘‘ and her husband knew many of the French 
set in which Hazimir lost his money. It seemed 
to me not impossible that she should remember 
something which could give us a clue. We can- 
not afford to leave a stone unturned.” 

And did she remember anything ? ” I asked. 

‘‘Nothing,” said Madame Bielinska sadly. 
“ Malwina has an excellent heart, but her head is 
the head of a child.” 

It happened that next day I was again in the vil- 
lage and again alone. More than once lately I had 
been back at Andrej’s hut, for his wife was still on 
the sick list, and very grateful for whatever small 
advice I could give her. I knew the dark little 
basket-work lane by heart already, and each crip- 
pled willow by sight, and, before plunging into its 
shadows, never failed to enjoy the glimpse over the 
plain, with the shimmer of the fish pond in the 


ONE YEAR 


231 


foreground, the blue summer haze in the distance, 
and the yellow sea of corn between the two. 
Since my meeting with Wladimir I had never en- 
countered anything here beyond a stray pig wallow- 
ing in the mud, but to-day almost at the same spot 
a man was standing in my path. My first impres- 
sion was that this was Wladimir again, waylaying 
me in the hope attempting some last desperate ap- 
peal, and, accordingly, without glancing toward 
him, I prepared to pass quickly by, but, to my as- 
tonishment, he did not move, and looking up per- 
force, for the way was narrow, I saw that it was 
Malewicz. At the moment that I recognised him 
I also understood why he was here. It seemed to 
me even that I had expected something of the sort. 
He himself met the thought half-way. 

‘‘You know what I want ? ” he asked in a more 
peremptory than inquiring tone. “ My mother was 
at Ludniki yesterday.” 

“ If you know all that your mother knows — ” I 
began, but he broke in : 

“Yes, yes; but my mother is not quite the re- 
porter I should wish. She has too much imagina- 
tion, and perhaps, also, too much heart. I should 
like to hear your account.” 

“ About the letters that came from Paris ? ” 

“ No, no,” he said impatiently, “ not about them, 
but about Wladimir. Is it true that he has aban- 
doned her ? ” 


232 


ONE YEAR 


I told him that it was true. 

He stood intent for a moment or two, evidently 
struggling with his emotion. 

“ The hound ! ” he said at last, bringing out 
even these words with a painful effort. Then only 
his tongue seemed to be loosened. Oh,’’ he cried 
in a voice which shook its depth, “ you know what 
it meant to me to lose her, you know what my 
hopes were, but I swear to you that if I could put 
a soul into that boy in order to give him back to 
her as she requires him, I would do so, so much 
does it hurt me to think of her grief. How does 
she bear it ? ” The last question was put with the 
abruptness of a keen anxiety. 

“ Her lover’s loss ? ” I asked. 

‘‘Yes, her lover’s loss.” 

“ Then I can only answer that there is nothing 
to bear. She has no lover; from the moment that 
she knew him as he is he became blotted out of 
her life as though he had never been, and, even 
though you could perform the miracle of making of 
him a hero, I can swear to you that she would not 
take him back.” 

“ Oh, you say so ? ” said Malewicz with eyes 
alight. “ She is so strong as that ? God be 
thanked for it ! Her love is dead, you say ? ” 

“ As dead as though it had never lived.” 

He took a turn across the lane, and came back 
to my side. 


ONE YEAR 


233 


But her heart is not dead, is it ? ” he asked more 
gently. “ Could it not live again — for another ? ’’ 
We looked each other full in the eyes for a few 
seconds, and then I spoke. 

I understand you. Pan Malewicz — it is best to 
be plain. You are asking me whether, now that 
the road is clear, there is any hope for yourself? ’’ 
“ That is it exactly. What do you say ? 

“ Only that time alone can answer that question; 
at the present moment it is not to be thought of. 
Any attempt on your part would certainly fail now. 

But she is young — if you give her time ” 

‘‘ But I cannot give her time,” he said with a 
vehemence that startled me. I thought I had 
gauged the depth of his passion for Jadwiga, but 
this tone was to me a revelation. It must be 
done at once if it is to be done at all. Will you be 
my ally ? That is what I chiefly wanted to ask 
you. You think me too precipitate, I know, but 
there is no help for it. Believe me, this is the 
right time ; after all, a heart is often caught at the 
rebound, is it not ? ” and he smiled a little nerv- 
ously. ^‘Will you help me or not? I am not ask- 
ing you for your own sake, but for the sake of her 
whom we both love. I will do it without your as- 
sistance if needs be, but it would be easier if you 
were on my side.” 

I answered, deeply moved, “ I have always been 
on your side ; but how I am to help you now I do 


234 


ONE YEAR 


not see. Jadwiga has grown so shy of the outer 
world that she hides from all but the most familiar 
faces. Do you know that since the arrival of those 
letters she has not been outside the gates ? If you 
come to Ludniki you may possibly see the mother, 
but certainly not the daughter.’’ 

“Then I shall begin with the mother. You 
think she will admit me ? ” 

“ It is not impossible. Just as Jadwiga shrinks 
from the light she seems to seek it. If by any 
chance you could bring her some news of Pan 
Lewicki’s return, then your admission would be 
certain, for she grasps at even the palest shadow of 
a clue.” 

“ Oh ? ” he said with increased attention. 

I went on to give him in general words an idea 
of Madame Bielinska’s state of mind. It seemed to 
me that he required some preparation. He listened 
intently, with eyebrows drawn deep over his eyes. 

“ Good,” he said when I ceased. “ I think I 
understand. You have helped me already. Oh, I 
shall find a way, never fear.” 

Upon this we parted — as allies, for it had not 
been possible to resist his urgency. I had npt so 
much as asked him whether he had well considered 
the situation, or reminded him that Jadwiga would 
now be almost as poor as himself. Merely to sug- 
gest this idea would have seemed to me an insult 
to a love such as his. 


CHAPTER XVI 


The day that followed was oppressively hot, so 
hot that I let Anulka off at least a quarter of her 
lessons, and took refuge on the pillared verandah 
before the house, which, lying toward the East, was 
in deep shadow at this hour. Jadwiga was there, 
too. She had caused a hammock to be slung be- 
tween two pillars, and was lying in it now so still 
that I took her to be asleep. My hands, too, lay 
idle in my lap. The oppressive atmosphere made 
even the lightest occupation an effort. There was 
a subdued hum of insects in the air, the leaves of 
the creepers that grew around the white pillars be- 
ing motionless. 

Presently a very slight crunching of the gravel 
made me discover that I had almost fallen asleep. 
I drowsily turned my head and instantly became 
wide-awake, for Malewicz, walking cautiously, 
was only at a dozen paces from the verandah. 
He must have left his horses in the village in order 
to approach the house unperceived. In my as- 
tonishment at his audacity I began by simply star- 
ing ; then quickly I turned toward the unconscious 
Jadwiga, who, with the edge of the hammock 
drawn half over her face, had evidently perceived 

235 


236 


ONE YEAR 


nothing. A peremptory gesture of the visitor 
checked the warning I had almost uttered, and in 
the same flash of thought I was already wondering 
at myself for having wanted to utter it. Was I 
not his ally ? 

It was not until his foot was on the stone step 
that something stirred in the hammock, and 
Jadwiga’s eyes looked out inquiringly. A deep 
red flush dyed her face on the instant. For a 
moment she seemed to be meditating an escape 
even then, for her eyes strayed desperately toward 
the door, but, quickly recognising the impossibility, 
she contented herself with sitting up in the ham- 
mock, pushing back her hair from her forehead, 
and looking with cold inquiry toward the visitor. 
I think she had nearly spoken, but he was too wise 
to give her time. With a profound bow in her 
direction he had turned straight to me. 

‘‘ Will you kindly ask Madame Bielinska 
whether she will receive me ? ’’ he said quickly. 
“ I have a message for her from my mother — an 
important message,” he added with emphasis. 

I rose in some slight flurry, wondering how 
Jadwiga would bear being left alone with him, but 
she was spared this ordeal, for, without another 
glance toward her he followed me into the house. 

This is almost too bold,” I said, as we crossed 
through the lobby. 

Success belongs to the bold,” he replied. 


ONE YEAR 


237 


But am I not also discreet ? ” And I was forced 
to acknowledge that it was so. 

When I came back to the verandah alone the 
hammock was empty, and I spent a solitary half- 
iiour trying to imagine what the message could be 
that Madame Malewicz was sending by her son. 
At the end of that time Marya came to say that 
the gracious lady wished to see me in her room. 

My first glance showed me that the message 
had been a welcome one. Madame Bielinska was 
sitting upright in her chair and greeted me eagerly. 

“ Heaven is with us ! ’’ she began, in a lively 
tone. “ Krysztof has offered his help. He has 
old letters of his father’s — many dated from Paris. 
He hopes to find in them the names of the Paris 
companions among whom we must seek our 
creditor. Is this not so, Krysztof? ” 

It is so,” said Malewicz, who was seated at 
only two paces from his hostess. My mother 
has remembered these letters. The names men- 
tioned in them belong mostly to families that are 
still extant in France. Since we have dates to go 
by I do not think it impossible that we should in 
this way find the man we require.” 

It was rather soon to say “ we,” but he said it, 
and looked at me straight as he spoke, and I 
looked back at him scrutinisingly. Not that I dis- 
trusted what he said, but merely that I was struck 
with wonder — almost with alarm — at his ingenuity. 


238 


ONE YEAR 


‘‘ Have you those letters here ? ” I asked. 

‘‘ No, they have to be hunted for first, as is 
usual with my mother’s possessions, but they are 
certainly safe. To-morrow I hope to bring them.” 

‘^What a diplomat! ” I inwardly ejaculated. 

It was not until some time after he had gone 
that Jadwiga came in. By the cloud on her face 
as she listened to her mother’s account of the visit 
I could see that something displeased her intensely. 
Yet all she said was, in a tone of unusual re- 
serve : — 

‘‘ And you have accepted his services ? ” 

“Naturally I have,” was Madame Bielinska’s 
reply. “ In this cause I refuse no services.” 

“ I wish it had been any one else,” said Jad- 
wiga, with painfully puckered eyebrows, and by 
the strong reluctance in her face I knew of what 
she was thinking. That just this man toward 
whom she could not feel quite guiltless, on whom 
she had reeked her disdain and her mockery, that 
just he of all others should be the one to offer his 
help must have been to Jadwiga’s spirit a very 
keen sort of torture. To know him in full pos- 
session of the disgraceful secret of the past, a wit- 
ness to her present humiliation, was bad enough, 
but to have to owe him gratitude for a service was 
worse infinitely. Jadwiga did not tell me these 
things then, but I had got to read her face and her 
bearing like an open book. 


ONE YEAR 


239 


When Malewicz came back next day with the 
letters she kept carefully out of his way, but the 
nature of the search now entered on made frequent 
visits necessary, or, at least, seemed to explain 
them, and she could not keep out of his way for 
ever. 

‘‘We have found three French names already,” 
Madame Bielinska informed me delightedly. “ I 
wanted to write at once to Monsieur Grimond to 
get him to make inquiries about the families, but 
Krysztof has offered to manage the correspond- 
ence himself. He says it will take less time, and 
he promises to bring me every scrap of news he 
gets.” 

Needless to say that he did more than keep his 
promise, for he came very often when he had no 
news to give, but merely an idea to suggest or an 
inquiry to make. Within a week, and without 
visible effort, he had glided into the position of 
something between a secretary and a family adviser, 
and looked as much at home in Madame Bielinska’s 
sanctuary as did Madame Bielinska herself. She 
had got so used to his presence that the days which 
did not bring him left her restless and dissatisfied. 
In him she had found exactly what she wanted ; a 
listener as well as an adviser. 

“ Where did you pick up your secret of 
manoeuvring ? ” I asked him once, laughingly, 
but he answered, without laughing : — “ Don’t you 


240 


ONE YEAR 


know that I am half an Armenian, and that cun- 
ning is an Armenian quality ? ” 

The bitterness of the tone reminded me that he 
had indeed some Armenian blood in his veins, and 
that in the days of his hopeless courtship Jadwiga 
had often contemptuously referred to him as ^‘The 
Armenian.’’ 

During that first week Jadwiga and Krysztof 
had not met again, and I was beginning to wonder 
whether he would not soon grow tired of these 
fruitless tactics, when one afternoon his opportunity 
came. 

We were again on the verandah, Jadwiga list- 
lessly reading, I writing to Agnes. I knew that 
about an hour ago Malewicz had come and been 
taken straight to Madame Bielinska’s room ; but 
by Jadwiga’s unconsciousness, by the mere fact of 
her being here, I saw that she was not aware of his 
presence in the house, and I resolved to leave her 
in ignorance. In order to leave the house he would 
have to pass here — well, so much the better ; it was 
time to clear the situation one way or the other, 
and it was more than time to rouse Jadwiga from 
the apathy that had so transformed her. 

At last I heard his step, and Jadwiga heard it 
too, and raised her head to listen, but he was already 
in the doorway. With a glance he had taken in 
the situation. 

Pani Jadwiga,” he said quickly, to the young 


ONE YEAR 


241 


girl who had already risen from her seat with the 
obvious intention of retiring, it is fortunate that I 
find you j I have a word to say to you from my 
mother.” 

It was wonderful how useful he contrived to 
make his mother. 

Jadwiga hesitated for a moment and then sat 
down again. 

What can your mother have to say to me ? ” 
she asked, in a tone of constraint. 

She would beg you to take pity on her loneli- 
ness ; the harvest is approaching, I shall be tied to 
the fields, and she will spend her days alone — would 
it be asking too much that you should keep her 
company — only for a few days ? always supposing 
that you can be spared here.” 

All the blood rushed to Jadwiga’s face as she 
replied hastily : — 

Oh, no, I cannot — it is impossible ; I cannot 
go away from here, and besides — ” she broke off 
abruptly. 

Besides what ? ” asked Malewicz, gently. 

“Your mother would gain nothing by such a 
companion as I am now. She had better look for 
somebody in a gayer mood, and who — who would 
do her house more honour.” 

The last words were spoken with averted face, 
vehemently and bitterly, pressed out, as it were, 
against her own will. 


242 


ONE YEAR 


Neither my mother nor I know of anybody 
who could do that,” said Malewicz, very de- 
liberately. Will you not reconsider your reso- 
lution ? ” 

She did not turn her face at once, but the hands 
that lay in her lap were twisted tightly together. 

“ I cannot come,” she said, in a choked voice. 

Then this is all I am to say to my mother ? ” 

There was a moment’s pause before she showed 
him her deeply moved face. 

No, that is not all j you are to tell her also that 
she is very good and that I thank her deeply. Will 
you tell her that ” and with an effort she held out 
her hand, but avoided looking at him. He took it 
in silence and raised it to his lips, then turned im- 
mediately and left us alone. 

Jadwiga looked after him with her eyes full of 
perplexity. 

“ But — I don’t understand,” she said, confusedly. 

I thought he knew everything.” 

So he does.” 

And his mother, too ? And yet she asks me 
to visit her ? But it is he who made her do that,” 
she added at once. I could see that she was in- 
tensely touched. Whether or not Malewicz had 
expected his proposition to be accepted it had cer- 
tainly not failed in its object. 

I don’t understand him at all,” she said, 
musingly. 


ONE YEAR 


243 


Don’t you ? ” said I, watching her carefully. 

There is nothing here, at any rate, that should 
be astonishing to you. Was it not you who asked, 
What can poverty, or grief, or shame do to a love 
that is real ? ” 

“ Oh, don’t; you hurt me! ” she said, sharply, 
and I saw that I had said enough for once. 

But from that moment she did not hide from 
Malewicz as she had hidden hitherto. It was easy 
to see that, in the respectfulness, almost the rever- 
ence of his bearing toward her, her cruelly wounded 
pride had found its first balm. To know that he 
knew everything was to give an especial value to 
his smallest act of courtesy, and weight to his every 
word. And in this crisis the man showed qualities 
for which I had never credited him. The un- 
gracious harshness of former days had completely 
disappeared, giving way to a considerateness, almost 
a gentleness, which was better proof than anything 
of his sentiments. It was clear that for her he 
could commit the prodigy of acting against his 
natural propensities. In an Englishman such a 
transformation would be almost impossible, but 
these slow natures — even the most stubborn of 
them — have a suppleness of which we do not 
dream. In a thousand delicate ways he brought 
home to Jadwiga the convictions that the stain 
which rested on her father could not touch her, 
that to him, at least, she was the same woman, the 


244 


ONE YEAR 


same supreme queen that she had been before the fatal 
discovery ; and it was wonderful to watch how little 
by little the teaching took effect, how her stricken 
self-esteem raised itself up once more, how her 
smarting spirit was slowly soothed. Surely it would 
have been wonderful if the idea had not obtruded 
itself that the man who did this would also have 
been capable of bearing the burden with her. 
There had always been something a little artificial 
in Jadwiga’s dislike to Malewicz, just as there had 
been something artificial in that love, fed by 
poetry and inflamed by music, which she had felt 
for Wladimir, and both sentiments had now come 
to the ground. 

But in all this I am anticipating. It was not in 
a day nor a week that this happened, and other 
things also happened during the time I am telling 
of. The first event of note was the arrival of 
Monsieur Grimond’s long looked for reply, whose 
dry business-like phrases, by informing us that the 
Vicomte Achille d’Urvain — the last of his name — 
had entered a monastery of the order of St. Francis 
more than a quarter of a century ago, beyond 
which point it became difficult to trace him, owing 
the monastic change of name, brought us the 
corroboration of our surmises. 

The certitude scarcely caused any great emo- 
tion, even to Madame Bielinska ; she had been sure 
already, without this proof. 


ONE YEAR 


245 


I am afraid there is not much more to be 
hoped for from that quarter/’ she remarked. ^‘It 
is fortunate that Krysztof has got hold of other 
threads.” 

And really it was fortunate. Without the cor- 
respondence with Paris which Malewicz was as- 
siduously cultivating, I scarcely know how poor 
Madame Bielinska would have got through those 
weary weeks of waiting, for Pan Lewicki had not 
yet come home. It was understood that he had 
left Karlsbad and that father and son were making 
a tour in the Austrian Alps, perhaps with the 
object of letting a little grass grow over the broken 
engagement. Once or twice Madame Bielinska 
suggested that the overseer at Krasno must surely 
be able to forward a letter, but by the advice of 
Malewicz, who proved how difficult it would be to 
treat the subject by writing, she always desisted 
from her purpose. 


CHAPTER XVII 


About the beginning of August, I observed a 
change in Malewicz’s demeanour. Knowing 
something of the ardour that devoured him I had 
marvelled at his patience ; now, all at once, it 
seemed to give way finally. 

The first time that this fact obtruded itself on 
my notice was one afternoon when he joined Jad- 
wiga and me in the garden. He seemed to me at 
once more preoccupied than usual, and I noticed 
that his eyes rested on Jadwiga in a way they 
had never dared to do before. The conversation 
to-day would not become consecutive ; there were 
frequent pauses, and every time we began to speak 
it was on another subject. I especially remember 
one remark of Malewicz’s. 

Those flowers are lilies, are they not ? ” he be- 
gan abruptly, after a pause that had been especially 
long, and looking toward an oval bed which lay op- 
posite to the bench we were sitting on. 

^‘Of course they are lilies,” answered Jadwiga 
in some surprise. 

And how are lilies cultivated ? What do 
they require to make them grow so tall and 
straight ? ” 


246 


ONE YEAR 


247 


‘‘A great deal of water,” said Jadwiga, thinking 
probably that he had snatched at the first available 
subject of conversation. 

‘‘And of manure, I think I have heard,” said 
Malewicz. 

“ Yes, manure does them good, certainly, as to 
almost all flowers.” 

“ Is it not strange,” said Malewicz, musingly, 
“ that so fair a flower as a lily should grow out of 
so vile a thing as dung ? Have you ever thought 
about that ? Is that lily less spotless, or less 
precious because it owes so many elements of its 
being to the dunghill ? Would any one hesitate 
to gather it because of that thought ? Not I for 
one ! What care I where it comes from or what 
was before it ? A lily is to me a lily, and my 
hand would stretch instantly toward it, if only the 
precious flower would consent to be gathered by 
my fingers.” 

He looked from the flower-bed toward Jadwiga 
as he spoke, and his glance was yet plainer than his 
words. But she was gazing straight away in front 
of her, and her colour neither rose nor fell ; it was 
almost as though she had not heard. 

When he was gone she turned toward me. 

“ I know what he meant,” she said, looking at 
me steadily. “ It was a strange way of putting it, 
but I understand quite well.” 

“ And is it impossible that the lily should ever 


248 


ONE YEAR 


allow itself to be gathered by that hand ? ” I asked, 
with some trepidation, for I had as yet no clue to 
her present attitude of mind. 

She slowly shook her head. 

Neither by that nor by any other hand. I know 
what you have been imagining all this time. You 
think that because I tolerate his presence I may 
get to feel for him what I know he feels for me. 
I am only trying to pay off a little of the debt I 
owe him, for I am very guilty toward him. I 
have misjudged him cruelly, and treated him 
cruelly too, and I am deeply ashamed of having 
done so, and would show him that he has all my 
esteem, — but love ? I have no more love to give, 
— not the love that men want; men themselves 
have killed it, in the person of that one man on 
whom I set my faith and who failed me.” 

The frank acknowledgment was exactly what I 
should have expected from her intrinsically gener- 
ous nature, but the hopelessness of her tone cut me 
to the quick. 

‘‘ But if your love was still to be given,” I 
urged, can you doubt that this would be the right 
man to give it to ? ” 

There was a slight disturbance in her eyes as 
she looked at me, and faint though it was I noted 
it with hope. 

No,” she said slowly. He might have been 
worthy, — I believe he is worthy.” It was strange 


ONE YEAR 


249 


to note how even in her humiliation her woman’s 
pride still valued the gift within her power to be- 
stow. 

She was silent for a minute now, plunged in such 
deep thought that I shrank from disturbing her. 
Then, without changing her attitude, she spoke 
again. 

I feel — I will tell you what I feel about it, — I 
feel as if I had had the chance of loving him and 
had missed it. Do you remember that day last 
year — it was soon after you came — when I con- 
sulted you — not quite seriously I think — about the 
choice of a lover ? If I had taken your advice 
then all probably would have been different ; and I 
could have taken it, for to the best of my belief I 
loved neither of them at that moment, but I could 
have loved either of them, for my heart was full of 
tenderness which had to be spent. It was like 
standing at a cross-road without knowing what was 
at the end of either way, — well, and I took the 
wrong turn, that is all.” 

‘‘ But your steps can be retraced,” I said, ‘‘ you 
have begun to retrace them already.” 

But Jadwiga only shook her head and said : 
‘‘ Not now ; it could have been then, but not 
now.” 

Next time Malewicz came to the house I man- 
aged to waylay him. 

‘‘You must not be imprudent,” I said. “She 


250 


ONE YEAR 


is not ready to listen to you. You must give her 
time.” 

In reply he burst out impatiently : — 

Time ! time ! Always that talk of time when 
every day is precious ! Have I not given her time 
enough already ? She is used to my presence now ; 
I cannot go on playing the family friend for ever.” 

I was too surprised to make much answer, and 
very soon it was forced upon me that my warning 
had been absolutely wasted. The strong guard 
which until now Malewicz had put both upon his 
eyes and upon his speech was abruptly removed. 
Within a few days he had thrown off the disguise 
under which he had hitherto figured, and appeared 
as what he was, an urgent and impatient lover. 
Jadwiga could no longer doubt that he was paying 
her his addresses ; and yet, although she never by 
word or glance encouraged his hopes, it was much 
already that she did not avoid him entirely. No 
doubt her heart was too sick to allow of her using 
toward him those means of discouragement which 
she had used once before ; and, more likely still, 
the balm of his friendship was too welcome to be 
foregone. 

In surprise, almost in consternation, I looked on 
at Malewicz’s headlong tactics. His urgency 
seemed to me not only unwise in the extreme, but 
also indelicate. Repeatedly I warned him, but he 
only laughed in my face. 


ONE YEAR 


251 


Patience ? ’’ he would say. Don’t talk to 
me of that ! Have you any notion of the amount 
of patience it has taken me to get to this point ? 
But the time for patience is past now; if she is to 
be gained at all it can only be by storm, believe me.” 

And again my words were cast to the winds, and 
his efforts redoubled instead of relaxing. 

Madame Bielinska did not seem to notice any- 
thing especial. To her Krysztof was still only a 
secretary and adviser, but I confess I felt curious 
regarding the attitude of the other mother — 
KrysztoPs mother — in the matter. This curiosity 
was to be speedily satisfied. 

Tell me. Miss Middleton,” Madame Malewicz 
said to me one day when she had accompanied her 
son to Ludniki, and at a moment when we found 
ourselves alone, “ do you think Krysztof has a 
chance ? ” 

Would you be glad if I said ‘yes’?” I in- 
quired, looking at her curiously. 

“ Glad ? Why, of course I should. Is he not 
my only boy ? ” 

“ And you have no objection to seeing your only 
boy married to the daughter of a cheater at cards, 
who, besides, would bring him no portion ? ” 

“ Why, you see it is this way,” said the old lady 
in some slight embarrassment, “ it is not she who 
cheated at cards, but her father, and how do any 
of us know what was the exact moral worth of 


252 


ONE YEAR 


our ancestors, or whether they might not have suc- 
cumbed under such a temptation ? Even granted 
they would not, she^ at any rate, is innocent, so 
why should she be punished ? 

^‘And as for the money,” went on Madame 
Malewicz, Krysztof assures me that there wiV. 
be enough remaining to live in a quiet way. I 
never understand about money matters, but he has, 
such an excellent head, and if they don’t mind liv- 
ing in a small way, why should I ? I have so few 
wants, you know, and am so easily satisfied (thi: 
was an idk fixe of the dear old creature). And, 
besides, Krysztof thinks it will be better to sell the 
estate and go to live in some place where nobody 
know^s the story. He talks of Abbazzia or Como, 
and I have always longed to see the south ! ” 

Her black eyes sparkled as she said it like the eyes 
of the veriest girl, and her small, but alas ! brighi' 
yellow teeth were displayed in a delighted smile. 

Oh, blessed irresponsibility ! If it was foolish, 
I had only to think of how others had acted in or- 
der to find it a noble sort of foolishness. From 
that side clearly there was no opposition to be feared 

Thinking back of that time I cannot exactly dis- 
entangle the sequence of incidents ; possibly I may 
not have given them quite in their right places, but 
of the general outline of these weeks I am certain. 
Single pictures rise in my memory, standing out 
sharply from the haze of forgotten hours. The 


ONE YEAR 


253 


background of these pictures was always either the 
white pillars of the verandah or the leafy depths of 
the park, for it was a life almost of imprisonment 
that we led, since nothing could induce Jadwiga to 
leave the precincts of her home. The only glimpses 
which she now had of the outer world were from 
the top of an old summerhouse which had an up- 
per story, and from which, between the crowns of 
the trees, the horison was visible. From up there 
among the overblown honeysuckle which held the 
rotting pillars tightly clasped in its saving embrace, 
she could watch the wide plain turn from pale gold 
to dark gold — for all that was visible of the country 
from here was one vast cornfield — a sea of one 
uniform tint, sometimes ruffled like the sea into 
ripples that went to break on some unseen shore, 
sometimes motionless beneath a deep blue sky, be- 
calmed as the sea itself can be in perfect autumn 
days. 

Among the pictures aforenamed there rises up 
one which I see more clearly than the rest. The 
harvest had been going on for some time now. 
One day, from the top of our watch tower, we 
saw that the plain was no longer golden, but of a 
dead, greyish-green tint, and at the same time we 
heard the sound of singing approaching from the 
village street. 

‘‘ The harvest wreath ! the harvest wreath ! ’’ 
cried Anulka, clapping her hands with joy. They 


254 


ONE YEAR 


are bringing the harvest wreath ! Oh, come, Jad- 
wiga, we must be there ! ” 

“ I am not coming,” said Jadwiga indifferently. 
I knew it was customary in Poland for the field 
workers on the last day of the harvest, to come in 
procession to the summerhouse, one of the girls 
being crowned with a wreath of corn ears, to be 
laid at the feet of the lord or lady of the house. 
Curious to see this picturesque ceremony I followed 
Anulka as she careered back toward the house. A 
strong scent of garlic was the first thing that ap- 
prised me of the vicinity of the singers, who were 
grouped on the verandah; the women’s coloured 
head cloths making bright blotches of red and yel- 
low against the white pillars, their flashing teeth 
displayed, as they shouted out the harvest song. 
There was the bristling, monstrous wreath on the 
head of a handsome sun- burnt girl and there, too, 
was Madame Bielinska, standing in the full light 
of the day, and smiling graciously at her subordi- 
nates, who stared back at her as though at one 
arisen from the dead ; and well they might, seeing 
that they had not seen her for eleven years. I have 
had the song translated to me since and noted down 
the queer and so oddly inappropriate verses : 

We have a proud mistress, 

She comes to the door, 

Her keys ring in her hand. 

She thanks God the corn is gathered. 


ONE YEAR 


255 


“ Our master comes not. 

He is gone to Swow, 

He takes corn with him, 

He brings back money. 

« Master, sell thy grey cow. 
Master sell thy brown cow, 
Master sell thy black cow. 

And buy us wddkL 

•• White feathers has our cock. 
But black are the master’s eyes. 
He lives among the corn. 

And the corn looks toward him. 

** The corn bows before him, 

The corn lies at his feet. 

He puts out his hand 
And the corn comes to him. 

•• Our master has a golden house 
With a golden door 
And a golden window. 

His labourers stand around him. 

« Little grey quail, 

Wilt thou still hide ? 

We have cut away the corn. 
Thou canst not lie under it. 

** The moon is on our path, 

Our wreath is" on our head. 

We shall not go astray 
Nor lose our wreath. 

The meadow has spoken 
And it has told us 
That the master has wodki 
And many glasses in a row. 


256 


ONE YEAR 


“We bring you the corn 
Of all your fields. 

May you sow again, 

And may you reap.” 

When my ears began to ache I withdrew noise- 
lessly, and at the same time Malewicz detached 
himself from the group of spectators. He spoke 
very little as he walked by my side. Presently 
Anulka came running after us ; the wreath of corn- 
ears which I had just seen on the head of the vil- 
lage girl now hung round her neck like a necklace. 
She ran past us to where Jadwiga sat alone, and, 
wriggling her thin neck out of the wreath, put it 
quickly on to her sister’s head. 

Oh, you look so lovely in it ! ” she cried, 
“ much prettier than Hania Wasylko looked ! ” 

Jadwiga put up her hand impatiently and pulled 
it off. 

It is the last harvest wreath they will bring 
us,” she said, contemplating it as it lay in her lap. 

They indeed will reap again, but we shall not 
sow. Poor wretches ! They do not know that 
by this time next year we shall have sold not 
only our grey and brown cows but also our 
house ! ” 

Then she looked up suddenly into Malewicz’s 
face. 

‘‘Tell me,” she said almost sharply, “is this 
correspondence of yours ever going to bring any 


ONE YEAR 


257 


result ? Is seems to me that you are always writing 
letters and never getting answers or, at any rate, 
no answers that bring us a step further.” 

To my knowledge this was the first time that 
Jadwiga had referred to the subject thus directly 
to Malewicz. He looked surprised, but answered 
immediately : 

“ On the contrary ; we have got several steps 
further already. The last letter from Paris brought 
us two new names, in the bearer of one of which 
I hope to discover the person we need.” 

Jadwiga sighed and said nothing more, and Male- 
wicz took the first opportunity of changing the 
subject. 

As it so happened it was I who, against my own 
will, pushed Malewicz prematurely to put his fate 
to the touch. 

I was talking one afternoon to the old postman 
Andrej, discussing the health of his wife. Since I 
had begun to visit her Andrej exhausted himself in 
all sorts of little cares for me, meant to prove his 
gratitude. He would pursue me with glasses of 
wine of which I had no need whatever, and did 
all that lay in his power to make me take to the 
national wodki — fortunately without effect. To- 
day he had surreptitiously brought me a slice of 
cake — he seemed to labour under the delusion that 
I was chronically starving — and while I was eating 
a little of it to please him, we carried on as much 


258 


ONE YEAR 


conversation as our mutual broken German al- 
lowed of. 

It is not Zosia alone ’’ (Zosia was his wife) 
‘‘ who looks white,” said the good soul, after sev- 
eral preliminary sighs. ‘‘Just look at our young 
lady ! It is a pity she does not drink wodki^ 

“ I doubt whether wodki would do her any good,” 
I replied, trying not to smile. 

“ I know what would,” said Andrej quickly, and 
then, with the privilege of an old servant, he added : 
“If the Krasno carriage would stand at our door 
that would do her good.” 

“Nonsense, Andrej,” I said provoked. “You 
must not speak like that. Our young lady and 
that young gentleman have found out in time that 
they do not suit each other, and she is not think- 
ing of him at all now — believe me ! And, besides 
that, he is far away now.” 

“ Not further away than Krasno,” said Andrej 
obstinately. 

“ He is not at Krasno ; he is in the Alps.” 

“Then either Jan is deaf or Michal is blind,” 
replied Andrej. 

“ Who is Michal ? ” 

“The Krasno coachman. It is close upon a 
week ago that you spoke to him in the market- 
place at Zloczek. He was standing there waiting 
with the four grey horses in the britzska — the 
one that is only brought out when the master him- 


ONE YEAR 


259 


self is there — and he told Jan that the family 
had been home for two days already, and that Pan 
Lewicki’s rheumatism had been washed away by 
the waters.” 

‘‘ Are you sure of this ? ” I asked. 

“ I am sure of what Jan told me,” said Andrej 
a little sulkily, but you can ask him yourself if 
you think Fm maundering.” 

I left the rest of my cake on the plate and went 
straight to Madame Bielinska. Malewicz was in 
the room, but I did not think of looking toward 
him as I rapidly began to speak. 

Just fancy what I have heard. Pan Lewicki 
is back ; he has been back for more than a week, it 
seems.” And I repeated what I had heard from 
Andrej. 

Madame Bielinska’s pale face grew red all over 
as she listened. Without immediately speaking she 
turned her sunken eyes reproachfully upon Male- 
wicz. 

A week ! ” she repeated after a moment. ‘‘ A 
whole week ! And you promised so faithfully to 
keep watch ! ” 

For the first time in my experience of Malewicz 
I saw him out of countenance. 

“ It cannot be so long as that,” he said quickly. 
‘‘ I should surely have heard of it ; he may be here 
since yesterday or the day before ” 

It was last week that Jan saw the carriage at 


26 o 


ONE YEAR 


Zloczek,” I said looking at him, and astonished to 
meet so disturbed a gaze. 

He gave an embarrassed laugh. 

‘^Well, that only shows what a bad detective I 
am ; but I did my best, believe me, I did my best.’’ 

He sighed so heavily with the last words that 
Madame Bielinska’s anger melted. 

‘‘Well, I forgive you, but there must not be an- 
other moment lost. It is too late for to-day. To- 
morrow before breakfast a messenger shall be at 
Krasno, and shall ask Bazyli to visit me immedi- 
ately.” 

Malewicz bent his head, as though in acquies- 
cence, but without speaking. When, a few 
minutes later, I left the room he followed me into 
the passage. 

“Where is Pani Jadwiga ? ” he asked in an agi- 
tated whisper. “ Not in her room, I hope ? ” 

There had been a thunderstorm that afternoon, 
succeeded by a faint drizzle of rain which kept us 
indoors. 

“ She is in the drawing-room, I believe,” I said. 
“ She had an idea of practising, although I do not 
hear the piano.” 

Seeing him now at close quarters I perceived a 
strained look about his mouth, which I had got to 
associate with his moments of strong emotion. 

“ Very well. Be so kind as not to follow me 
there,” he said briefly. 


ONE YEAR 


261 

What are you going to do ? ’’ I asked. 

Surely not to ” 

I afm not bound to answer that question/’ he 
said in the same tone of extreme irritation. I 
only ask you not to disturb me.” 

Is it Wladimir’s return that is exciting you 
so ? ” I persisted. If so, believe me, you have 
nothing to fear ; she does not think of him at all.” 

He looked as though he were laughing, although 
no sound came. 

Wladimir ! ” he said, in an accent of inimi- 
table contempt. What do I care for the boy ! ” 
And, brushing past me, he went toward the draw- 
ing-room. 

I did not see him again that day, and it was only 
late at night that I saw Jadwiga alone ; but the first 
glance I had of her face told me how matters stood. 
' While I was brushing out my hair before the 
glass the door softly opened, and a white-robed 
form stole in and sat down in silence on my bed. 
It was many months now since she had come in 
thus, for since the shock of the catastrophe she 
had been chary of her confidences. My heart 
swelled as I thought of happier days, so recent and 
yet so irrevocably lost, when she had sat exactly 
as she sat now, only with something so different in 
her eyes. 

Do you know what I have done to-day ? ” she 
asked after a moment. 


262 


ONE YEAR 


‘‘ You have refused Malewicz ? ’’ I said, looking 
at what I could see of her profile in the glass. 

“ Do you think it very foolish of me ? ’’ she 
humbly inquired. 

“ I think it much more foolish of him to press 
you for your decision now ; in six months’ time 
your answer might perhaps have been different.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” she asked, looking at me 
earnestly, but refraining from direct contradiction, 
a symptom which I at once put down as favour- 
able. Then I wish he had waited. It hurts me 
to hurt him, but how can I say ‘ Yes ’ to him when 
I am not sure whether what I feel is not only grat- 
itude for his devotion ? ” 

“ At any rate she is not sure that she does not 
care for him,” I commented in my own mind. 

You acknowledge his devotion ? ” I said aloud. 

“ I not only acknowledge it, I suffer under it. 
It is dreadful to owe so much to a person, and not 
to be able to pay him back.” 

She mused for a moment with her eyes on the 
ground. 

If I had known him last year as I know him 
now ” 

I rose from my place before the mirror, and, 
going up to where she sat, took her two hands be- 
tween my own. 

Stop thinking of last year, Jadwiga,” I said, 
stooping down so as to look into her eyes. 


ONE YEAR 


263 


“ Think of this moment only — of this moment 
and of the future. You made a mistake then, but, 
believe me, it is not too late yet. You have time 
enough to learn to love him, and you will have to 
love somebody — you are not made to live alone. 
Why not choose this man who has proved his 
faithfulness so brilliantly ? ’’ 

Jadwiga looked at me in astonishment, a sort 
far-ofF hope dawning in the depth of her dark 
eyes. \ 

“ Perhaps,’’ she said, hesitatingly, you may be 
right — I don’t know, but it is so quick, so terribly 
quick. How good you are, Eleanor ! Even 
though I may not know what I feel for him, I am 
quite sure that I love you ! ” 

She kissed me with one of her haunting smiles, 
and disappeared again through the door. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Looking out of the window on the following 
afternoon I saw a britzska with four grey horses 
sweeping up to the door. This meant that, despite 
■ ie rupture, Pan Lewicki had immediately answered 
.vladame Bielinska’s summons. No less was to be 
expected from Polish courtesy. He came alone, 
of course ; indeed, as I afterward ascertained, An- 
drej’s information was so far incorrect that Wladi- 
mir had not come home with his father, but had 
started to travel in the East. I watched the pictur- 
esque giant alighting without any especial emotion. 
From the first the hope which my employer had 
set upon the revelations he might be expected to 
make had appeared to me extravagant. It is true 
that he was the one surviving member of the gam- 
bling trio which had tried to ruin itself in Paris 
thirty years ago, but it did not seem to me likely 
that he would be able to do more than add a few 
names to the list of those French acquaintances 
with whom their gay days had been spent. Never 
in my life was I so mistaken. 

The interview was lengthy. More than an hour 
passed before I saw Pan Lewicki again taking his 
seat in his britzska and covering his handsome, 
iron-grey head with the square Polish tartatka. 

264 


ONE YEAR 


265 


I was watching him out of sight when the door 
behind me opened, and, turning round, I beheld 
to my astonishment Madame Bielinska entering. 
Since I dwelt under her roof this was the first time 
that I had seen her here. Her face v/as flushed 
and shining with excitement. 

Where is Jadwiga ? ” she said, stuttering a lit- 
tle in her haste. ‘‘ Call her quickly, I beg of you ! 
Oh, Miss Middleton, we have found him — we 
have found him at last ! ” And, to my consterna- 
tion, she half fell into my arms, clinging convul- 
sively round my neck, and doing something which 
was neither laughing nor crying, or which, per- 
haps, was a mixture of both. 

Pan Lewicki has found him for you ? ’’ I 
asked, guiding her carefully to a chair. “ Is that 
what you mean ? 

“Yes, yes, that is it ; and can you imagine who 
it is ? Guess ! ” 

“How can I possibly do that ? ” I objected. “I 
have got all those French names completely mixed 
up.” 

“But it is not a French name at all; it is a 
Polish name,” she said, shaking my arm as she held 
it. “ I don’t know why we took for granted from 
the first that it was a Frenchman whom Hazimir 
had cheated ; it was not a Frenchman, it was his 
own compatriot, his friend. Oh, can’t you guess 
now ? ” 


266 


ONE YEAR 


‘^Not Pan Lewicki himself? ” I asked, in grow- 
ing bewilderment. 

No — the other one, Krysztof, nobody else but 
our good friend Krysztof ! ” — she almost screamed, 
and this time she gripped my arm with painful 
force. 

The want of government in her demeanour from 
the moment she had entered the room had made 
me fear that her mind was slightly unhinged, now 
I thought I was sure of it ; I therefore answered as 
gently as possible : — 

‘‘ Surely there must be a mistake here, dear Ma- 
dame; you forget that Krysztof was barely born 
when these things happened.” 

‘‘Not he but his father; don’t you understand? 
It can be no other. Bazyli remembers those two 
evenings quite well, the one on which Malewicz — 
Stepan Malewicz — won so greatly from Hazimir, 
and the following evening on which he lost much 
more heavily. The duel at cards between them 
was one of the events of the club season. Bazyli 
was among the spectators who stood round watch- 
ing ; he remembers the Vicomte perfectly and his 
departure for Africa — he thinks he can even re- 
member the mirror on the wall, for that old man’s 
memory is as keen as a knife and as clear as glass. 
He always had a good head and gambled as me- 
thodically as he did everything else. The dates in 
the letter tally exactly with those in his memory — 


ONE YEAR 


267 


everything tallies — there can be no doubt Stepan 
Male\vicz is the man who was wronged by Kazi- 
mir, and Krysztof is his only son — therefore it is to 
him that we owe restitution — it is he who is the 
real master of Ludniki.’’ 

In that moment I perceived Jadwiga standing in 
the doorway, with her garden-hat in her hand. 
Her figure was stiff, almost to immobility, only her 
eyes moved slowly from her mother to me. 

“Jadwiga, my child, we have found him ! ” said 
Madame Bielinska, stretching her arms toward her 
daughter. “ Bazyli says ’’ 

“ I have heard what he says,” said Jadwiga, 
speaking with some difficulty, “ but may he not be 
mistaken ? ” 

“ It seems to me,” I put in, “ that these are sur- 
mises, very plausible surmises certainly, but yet not 
proofs.” 

“To me it is proved already,” said Madame 
Bielinska hastily, afraid evidently of having her dis- 
covery wrenched from her. 

“ But the Malewiczs are poor,” I objected, 
“ and in your husband’s letter it is expressly stated 
that his opponent is rich, and can spare the 
money.” 

“ So he could at the time ; it was in the golden 
days of the family. Kazimir stopped gambling 
after that visit to Paris, but Stepan Malewicz did 
not, although he had a wife and a child already j 


268 


ONE YEAR 


that evening at the club was only one in a series 
of disastrous evenings for him. And Hazimir 
could look on at the ruin consummating itself, and 
could keep to himself the money which would at 
least have averted the worst ! ” There was inex- 
pressible contempt on her emaciated face as she 
said it, and her thin, long-fingered hands closed 
slowly upon her knee. Then a faint smile flick- 
ered over her features. 

“ Poor Krysztof ! What a surprise for him to 
find that he is after all not quite a beggar ! And 
to think that he was looking for himself all the 
time ! ’’ 

She gave a broken laugh and looked toward her 
daughter, as though for sympathy in what evidently 
struck her as an excellent joke; but neither on 
Jadwiga’s white face nor in her wide, perplexed 
eyes was there any response, 

I suppose he will be coming to-day,” said Ma- 
dame Bielinska, as she rose. 

But Malewicz did not come that day, as, indeed, 
after yesterday’s events was not to be expected. 
Madame Bielinska waited in a fever until late at 
night, and next morning early the same messenger 
who had been sent to Krasno was despatched to 
Roma Wielka. 

That next day was the first of September, a date 
which, for various reasons, I am not likely to for- 
get. That it should prove a turning-point in Jad- 


ONE YEAR 269 

wiga’s life was to be foreseen, but nothing warned 
me that to me, too, it was to bring a crisis. 

Jadwiga and I were both sitting with Madame 
Bielinska when toward midday Malewicz was an- 
nounced. I expected to see Jadwiga take instantly 
to flight, but to my surprise she kept her place, 
only stiffening a little in her chair and drawing in 
her under-lip between her teeth, a trick she had 
when her nerves were off their balance. As the 
door opened I could see a thrill pass through her 
from head to foot, then my eyes turned irresistibly 
toward the newcomer, and immediately something 
in his face gave me a fresh shock of astonishment. 
Almost in the same moment, and before any one 
had spoken, Jadwiga sprang to her feet. 

‘‘You know it ! ” she cried shrilly, “you know 
it ! It is true then, since you know it ! ” 

My thoughts had not yet been able to follow 
hers, and already I vaguely felt that she was right. 
Whether Malewicz had come here with the inten- 
tion of acting complete ignorance I do not know, 
but, be that as it may, the sudden attack, coming 
from so unexpected a quarter, had thrown him mo- 
mentarily off his guard. His face, during that one 
minute of silence, in which he was evidently try- 
ing to speak, was a plain avowal. Madame Bie- 
Mnska, who, as little as I, had suspected the truth, 
which Jadwiga’s instinct had somehow leapt at, 
looked inquiringly at all our faces in turn. 


270 


ONE YEAR 


The silence had not lasted more than a few mo- 
ments when Jadwiga, without saying a further 
word, flung out of the second door. 

I was preparing to follow when Madame Bie- 
linska said quickly and with a loftiness which as- 
tonished me — 

‘‘ Miss Middleton, you will oblige me by staying. 
There is something here which perhaps you can 
help me to understand. Tell me ’’ — and she turned 
to Malewicz — ‘‘is it as she says? You are not 
only the person I have been looking for all summer, 
but you know it ? ’’ 

Malewicz seemed to be hesitating, then a cloud 
of sullenness settled on his features. 

“ Be it so,” he said. “ I am that person and I 
know it. The comedy need be carried no further, 
since it has lost its point.” 

Madame Bielinska’s skin-and-bone hands tight- 
ened on the two carved knobs of her chair, as she 
measured him with a glance that was almost a glare. 

“You knew it,” she said with badly suppressed 
rage, “ you knew it, and you have pretended to be 
my friend and my helper ! False man ! False 
man ! Go from my house never to return ! It 
will be your house soon as you know well, but as 
long as I am here you shall not cross its threshold.” 
Her long finger shook as it pointed at the door, 
and in her staring eyes there was a look that bor- 
dered on hatred. 


ONE YEAR 


271 


Why do you not go ? ” she asked, as he did 
not move. Have you anything to say in your 
excuse ? You shall have your money, every penny 
of it, but you are no longer my friend.” 

Malewicz walked to the door without speaking, 
then turned, as though on some sudden resolution. 

I have only one thing to say in my defence,” he 
said hurriedly — I love your daughter, I have loved 
her for long. Give me the money if you will, 
but give me her with it, and neither she nor you 
need descend by one step from your present estate.” 
He looked at her with passionate entreaty, the 
look of a man who is making his last desperate 
move. 

Madame Bielinska sat rigid for a moment longer, 
then . slowly sank back in her chair. 

It is a plot, then,” she murmured between her 
working lips ; “ you would be the generous creditor 
who would sacrifice himself in order to preserve 
to us our bread and butter — you would crush us 
with your magnanimity. No, no. Pan Malewicz, 
you need not hope to get either my consent or my 
daughter’s to so obvious a financial arrangement ; 
we may be poor but we are not base.” 

Malewicz turned to me. “ Ask this lady,” he 
said with flaming eyes, ask Miss Middleton if I 
am sacrificing myself, or if I am pleading for the 
fulfilment of what has been my one thought for 
years — if I look on myself as the giver or the re- 


272 


ONE YEAR 


ceiver ; she knows a little of what there is in my 
heart/’ 

Madame Bielinska considered him for a moment, 
her attention arrested in spite of herself, then she 
obstinately shook her head. 

No, no — it may be that you love her, but she 
cannot love you, she has loved another, too, lately. 
And then you are false, you have deceived me — I 
would not have such a son. Go, I tell you, go, 
and do not return ! ” 

He went then without another word, and with 
only one long, questioning look in my direction. 

I did not wait for Madame Bielinska to speak. 

‘‘You will call him back again,” I said reproach- 
fully, “if not to-day then to-morrow.” 

“ Never ! ” she answered vehemently, “ he has 
cheated me ! ” 

“ But if Jadwiga were to love him ? If she 
were to come to love him ? ” 

She moved uneasily in her chair. 

“ That will not be, and if it were to be it — would 
not do. That would be too easy a way, don’t you 
see. We need not descend from our social estate, 
he said — but I want to descend, I want to suffer 
materially instead of mentally, else there would be no 
penance, nothing to make me feel that I had indeed 
paid the price of that sin — it would not hurt enough, 
don’t you see ? ” And she raised her haggard eyes 
to my face, struggling to express her meaning. 


ONE YEAR 


273 


I understood, and left her with a sigh, foreseeing 
a new inimical influence to the union which I still 
hoped to bring about. It was clear that she could 
not forgive the man who could have quenched her 
thirst for penance two months ago and had not 
done so. 

I had an idea that Jadwiga ought not to be left 
alone, but she had locked herself into her room, 
and not being able to reach mine except through 
hers I was forced to look for another refuge. This 
I found in the store-room, where Marya, assisted 
by Anulka, who had offered herself in the hopes of 
there being stray spoons to lick, was engaged in 
arranging long rows of preserves. Too restless 
for solitude I likewise commenced handing up jam- 
pots. 

Presently, while we three were thus busy, a 
shadow fell in the doorway. Turning round I al- 
most started to see Malewicz looking at me with a 
distinct request in his eyes. 

‘‘ I thought you were gone,” I said, as, putting 
down the pot I held, I joined him in the passage. 

‘‘ I am going presently, do not fear, but I should 
like to speak to you for a few minutes alone. Is 
there no place where we will not be seen ? I am 
a proscribed criminal, you know, and I should not 
like to be turned out of the house door.” 

Just then we came to a door standing ajar, and 
which led to a square space at the head of the 


274 


ONE YEAR 


cellar staircase, a sort of ante-chamber to the 
cellar, so to say, where empty wine casks and cork- 
less bottles stood about in a dim half light, plenti- 
fully draped with cobwebs. 

No one will find us here,’’ I said, sitting down 
on an overturned packing case. 

There were plenty more seats of the sort avail- 
able, and Malewicz, having taken another, and 
disposed of his long legs as best he could among 
the bottles, began speaking at once, though in a 
guarded voice. 

This is probably the last time I shall be in 
this house, and I should like one person at least to 
know exactly how matters stand.” 

‘‘You have known the truth all along?” I 
asked, trying to read his face in the half light. 

“ Not quite all along.” 

“ Since when, then ? ” 

“ Since two days before Hazimir Bielinski’s 
death. On that day, as I once told you, the 
strange monk came to Roma Wielka. I received 
him as a matter of course, just as Bielinski received 
him next day. I was only twenty at the time, but 
already my own master, my father having died 
some years previously. When he heard my name 
the stranger — he knew no word of Polish — seemed 
struck ; he had evidently come to the house with- 
out inquiring who the owner was. He sat still for 
some moments as though plunged in deep thought, 


ONE YEAR 


275 


from which he awoke to throw a piercing glance 
round the room. ‘ But I thought your family was 
rich,’ he said with a somewhat brutal directness. 
‘ I am certain I have heard it was rich.’ I was 
young enough to be annoyed at the remark, and 
answered stiffly that he had heard aright, but that 
riches are not necessarily permanent. The French 
monk shook his head. ‘ Oh, the cards,’ he 
groaned, ‘ the cards ! I knew they would be his 
perdition. Your father had a great loss in Paris in 
185 — , had he not ? ’ I replied that he had sus- 
tained various losses, wondering the while at my 
visitor’s information and at his tenacity. ‘ But,’ 
he went on with evidently growing interest, ‘ that 
loss was retrieved. Do you not remember having 
heard of any great gain he made since that time ? 
— of any — what shall I call it ? — good turn that 
came to your fortunes after the year 185 — ? But, 
to be sure, you were a child then.’ To this I an- 
swered that from what my mother had told me — 
she was recovering from a severe illness at the 
time, and, therefore, not present — I was almost 
certain that since the year he spoke of my father 
had done nothing but steadily lose. I could see 
by the monk’s face that this perplexed him ex- 
tremely. ‘ Is there not a house in the neighbour- 
hood called Ludniki ? ’ he asked after a minute’s 
silence, and when I answered in the affirmative, he 
went on : ‘ And whom does it belong to now ? ’ 


276 


ONE YEAR 


‘To Hazimir Bielinski/ I replied. ‘That cannot 
be/ he said quickly, ‘ it must have been sold long 
ago.’ ‘For what reason?’ I objected. ‘The 
family is perfectly well off/ and I think I added, 
‘ The cards were less fatal to them than to us.’ 

“ My strange visitor seemed able to contain 
himself no longer. He left his seat and began 
pacing the room with wide steps, his brown frock 
beating against his bare, sandalled feet, his rosary 
clanking by his side like a sword. His movements 
alone would have betrayed him for a Frenchman. 
‘ Perfectly well off,’ he repeated, ‘ are you sure of 
what you say ? Are you sure that there has been 
no fall in the fortunes of Hazimir Bielinski within 
the last twenty years ? Think well before you 
speak.’ I could only repeat my former statement. 
He took two more turns in the room, his hand 
working the while in his black, scarcely grizzled 
beard, and then he burst out with a vehemence that 
shook me, ‘ Ah, le lache ! then he has lied to me 
and to God ! He has flourished upon his wrong- 
ful gains — may the devil take his soul ! ’ But he 
had scarcely said it when he crossed himself 
quickly. ‘ God forgive the sinful words that came 
to my lips,’ he said. ‘ It is not the devil who can 
help here ; it is God alone, and I as His instru- 
ment. Young man, I have come to you in a good 
hour. Your home is poor — it needs not eyes as 
sharp as mine to see it — but I can make it rich 


ONE YEAR 


^77 

again, or, if not rich, I can at least give you back 
comfort — comfort which is yours by all the laws 
of heaven and earth. You have been robbed, my 
son, you have been robbed, and you know it not ! ’ 

‘‘And then, while I listened in amazement, 
more than half persuaded that I was harbouring a 
lunatic, he told me the story of those two even- 
ings at Paris, exactly as it is told in the letters 
which we both know, only judged from a different 
point of view. He spoke of the correspondence 
which had passed between him and Bielinski, of 
his own conversion on what he had believed to be 
his death-bed. He reproached himself in bitter 
words with not having kept his eye on Bielinski 
through the cloister gates, so to say. ‘ I was too 
much absorbed by my own soul,’ he said, ‘ my soul 
which I had only newly discovered, to have any 
thoughts ever for the souls of others. And, be- 
sides — God be my witness ! — I believed him. Oh, 
le lache ! But I will go to him to-morrow. It is 
God who has led my steps this way. I shall save 
his soul in spite of himself, and I shall give you 
back what is rightfully yours.’ 

“Well,” continued Malewicz, “he went next 
day — you know with what result. You can well 
imagine the excitement which the revelation had 
caused in my twenty-year-old heart. Poverty had 
never been congenial to me; it was antipathetic to 
my mother, even though she herself might not 


278 


ONE YEAR 


know it. I went to bed that night in a tumult of 
perplexity and hope, and dreamed of years of com- 
fort to come. It became clear to me now why 
Hazimir Bielinski had so often offered me money, 
and I felt thankful that I had never taken it. He 
was not unscrupulous though he might be weak, 
and no doubt it inconvenienced him to see me in so 
sorry a plight. 

I was startled out of my new hopes by the 
news of the horrible catastrophe. Like almost 
every one in the neighbourhood I hurried to Lud- 
niki to assure myself of the truth, for it was not to 
be believed in hearsay alone. I saw them both 
lying in their blood, and to me alone of all the hor- 
ror-stricken spectators the explanation of the dread- 
ful event was as clear as day ; I alone could read 
the meaning of that stiff, right hand, which, even 
in death, seemed to keep its gesture of denuncia- 
tion. Why did I not speak, you will ask ? Think 
of the situation ; could I overwhelm the already so 
deeply stricken family by handing out the disgrace- 
ful key to the enigma ? I was young, remember, 
and far too much shaken to think of claiming my 
rights in the presence of those two corpses. Later 
on, I said to myself, it will be time enough to re- 
trieve what is my due 3 I must let the unhappy 
woman find the ground under her feet again. Be- 
sides, all the proofs I had in my hands were 
merely moral ones ; the family might choose to ac- 


ONE YEAR 


279 


cept them or they might not. More valid proofs 
might perhaps be procurable. I knew that Bie- 
linski’s letters had not been destroyed, for the 
Vicomte, turned monk, had told me so himself. 
They were deposited somewhere in Paris — research 
and inquiry might bring them to light; but I put 
that all off for later, and meanwhile I held my 
tongue even toward my mother, for I well knew, 
that, once shared by her, my secret would be a 
secret no longer. Thus a year, two years passed, 
and I still hesitated to act, and then — and 
then ” 

Malewicz broke off his narrative and, leaning 
forward on his primitive seat, stared moodily at 
the wall opposite. Now that my eyes had got ac- 
customed to the half light I could read every shade 
of expression on his dark, keen face, and could 
even note the threadbare appearance of the black 
coat which hung so loosely on his gaunt figure. 

‘^Then I began to understand that I loved her,” 
he said, sinking his voice by another tone. His 
foot touched an empty bottle as he spoke and made 
it clink against its neighbour. He looked anxiously 
toward the door, afraid of having betrayed our 
presence. Despite my agitation our situation in 
the midst of these barrels and packing-cases and in 
the gloom of these dusty corners irresistibly re- 
minded me of the games of hide and seek I had 
played with Henry — oh, so many years ago. I 


28 o 


ONE YEAR 


had played another game of hide and seek with 
him since then — but enough of that now. 

“ She was but a child/’ went on Malewicz, al- 
most whispering now, and already I knew that 
for me there was going to be no other woman in 
the world. From the moment that I understood 
this I also understood that I should have to be 
silent for ever. I might, perhaps, have been able to 
put her family to disgrace, but not herself. I will 
not say that I took my resolution with a light 
heart. From the moment I decided that I could 
not speak I scarcely felt able to look my mother in 
the eyes. It was no good working like two men 
instead of one in order to procure to her a few of 
the comforts which she required almost as much as 
daily bread — it was no good going to bed hungry 
and wearing my clothes so long as they would hang 
upon me ; although I more than once half-killed 
myself with sheer work, it was only the bread I 
could manage to give her — very dry bread, for the 
most part — and I could not keep my eyes shut to 
the fact that I was sacrificing my mother to a 
woman who would probably never love me. Peo- 
ple talked of my filial devotion, but in my heart of 
hearts I knew that I was a bad son — a bad son, 
because too good a lover. Perhaps it was a crime, 
and perhaps it is for this crime that Heaven is pun- 
ishing me so heavily now. But for the unfortunate 
reappearance of those letters, my secret would 


ONE YEAR 


281 

have been buried with me. From the moment of 
their arrival Bazyli Lewicki has been my terror, 
just as he has been Madame Bielinska’s hope. 
The monk had mentioned him as having been 
present on the critical evening, and I was tor- 
mented with the idea that a word of his might put 
her on the right track. You see how true that pre- 
sentiment was. Do you understand now why 
Jadwiga had to be won by storm, if she was to be 
won at all ? ’’ He looked at me piercingly, with 
anguish in his black eyes. 

“ And your correspondence with Paris ? ” I asked. 

A farce,” he replied, looking me straight in the 
face. I wrote the letters, it is true, but only 
those of which I felt sure that they could lead to 
no result. It was as good a way as any other of 
keeping Madame Bielinska’s thoughts steadily 
turned toward Paris.” 

And you could play this comedy ? ” I asked, my 
senses of rectitude outraged, despite my pity for him. 

He smiled without joy. ‘‘ I have told you that 
I am half an Armenian. I have no remorse for 
my deception : the only thing I repent of is the 
moment of weakness which betrayed me to her this 
morning. After that moment denial would have 
been useless. To know that I have been aware of 
the family disgrace for so long past will only add 
to her sense of humiliation ; that at least might 
have been spared her; she has enough to bear al- 


282 


ONE YEAR 


ready ! ” He looked at me so earnestly and with 
so much passionate solicitude in his eyes that I 
straightway forgave the ‘‘Armenian” for the too 
great diplomacy which a minute before had roused 
my British blood. 

I was beginning to answer him when outside in 
the passage Anulka raced past, calling for me and 
loudly announcing that the soup was on the table. 
Clearly it was time to evacuate our retreat, and ac- 
cordingly we parted without any more words. 

And now I come to the most astonishing mo- 
ment of this eventful day, to the moment which 
abruptly and rudely tore my thoughts away from 
Jadwiga and turned them toward myself. 

The same old leather post-bag with the dim 
brass fastenings — never rubbed up by any chance 
— which had brought disgrace to the house of Bie- 
linski was to bring me the tidings of an unexpected 
joy, and with the same startling suddenness. 

I was on my way to the dining-room when my 
eye caught it lying on the lobby table. In the 
general agitation nobody had thought of examining 
its contents. Probably I would not have done so 
either if a somewhat prolonged silence of Agnes’ 
had not made me feel anxious. I emptied the bag 
on the table, looking out for my friend’s hand- 
writing — it was not visible, and yet there was an 
English stamp, and below it — surely my over- 
strained nerves were playing me a trick ? — but 


ONE YEAR 


283 


was that not a handwriting which I had once 
known better than my own, and which I had never 
thought to see again ? 

I am not writing my own story but Jadwiga’s, 
and so it is not necessary to give the exact con- 
tents of Henry’s letter; let it be sufficient to say 
that he briefly announced to me the unexpected 
death of an aunt, and the equally unexpected 
legacy for which he figured in her testament — a 
modest enough sum, in truth, yet large enough to 
make his marriage no longer appear in the light of 
an absurdity. After which he, somewhat less 
briefly, asserted that his feelings toward me had un- 
dergone no change since last we parted, and ended 
by inquiring after the condition of my own. . 

Again I take refuge in the statement made above, 
and which absolves me of all necessity of entering 
into the exact sensations produced within me by 
this astonishing event ; but I will not scruple to as- 
sert that the surprise was almost too great for me 
just at first, the light almost too blinding, the 
shock almost too much like a blow. It was in a 
state of mental giddiness, still seasoned with in- 
credulity that I ate my soup — almost cold by this 
time. It is not only misfortune, it is also good 
fortune which occasionally knocks us on the head 
so brutally as almost to do for us entirely. 

Was it possible that our game of hide and seek 
had come to an end for ever ? 


CHAPTER XIX 


I DID not at once sit down to answer Henry’s 
letter; I was not yet mistress of myself to do so. 
Not that I exactly disbelieved in my good fortune, 
but that I had lost the habit of personal happiness 
too completely to be able to recover it at a mo- 
ment’s notice. Something within me was stiff 
with unuse, congealed with want of warmth, and 
required a little time to resume its action, I went 
about my usual occupations with a stupid feeling of 
unreality about it all, re-reading Henry’s letter at 
intervals, prepared each time to find that I had 
mistaken his meaning. 

The day was closing in when something hap- 
pened which seemed in one moment to give 
me back all my powers of sensation. It was but a 
small incident in itself, valuable probably to me 
alone. 

Lately Jadwiga had almost entirely neglected her 
piano ; therefore it touched me with a sort of pleas- 
urable astonishment — as I was wandering in the 
garden after sunset, in search of I knew not what 
myself — to hear chords that were broken at first, 
but which gradually gathered to melody, floating 
out by the open window. In one moment I felt it 
284 


ONE YEAR 


285 


— that was what I wanted — music, and, drawn as 
though by an invisible thread, I entered the house 
and approached the drawing-room door j but there 
I stood still, partly for fear of disturbing the player, 
partly because of the astonishment within me. I 
thought I knew every shade of Jadwiga’s playing; 
but this was new to me. The opening, unequal 
chords had given the impression of hands groping 
about on the keys almost helplessly ; it was by 
degrees only that they warmed to their task, but, 
having warmed to it, they drew sounds from the 
old piano of which I had never thought it capable. 
It seemed to be a song of triumph which they were 
ringing out of the yellow keys, a wild cry of victory, 
fierce, abrupt, and yet not joyful ; and while I 
listened, breathless, the exultation had sunk to 
lament. Every one — that is, every one susceptible 
to music — knows the sort of melody that is almost 
as much pain as pleasure to hear. There is almost 
always a chord, sometimes a single note, on which 
the pain and the pleasure seem to culminate, which 
appears to dominate the whole, and, hearing it, you 
have the feeling that it is almost unbearable, that 
if it returns but once more you will have to — you 
don’t know exactly what, but that, at any rate, it 
will be too much for you. It was this sort of 
music I was listening to now, and each one of 
those supreme notes seemed to stab straight into 
my heart like a well-aimed knife. Presently, as I 


286 


ONE YEAR 


leant against the door post, listening, I discovered 
that I was crying, and that, despite my tears, I was 
happy, and at last believed in my own happiness. 
All that had been stiff within me had been softened, 
all that had been cold had been melted by that 
delivering music. 

It ceased, and I opened the door, meaning to say 
a word of thanks to my sweet friend, but I had not 
taken two steps before I stood still, disbelieving my 
tear-blurred gaze, for the face that looked at me 
over the piano was not the one I had expected to 
see. It was not Jadwiga who sat there, it was her 
mother. To me it was like a ridiculous transfor- 
mation scene. 

I beg your pardon,” I murmured in groundless 
confusion, I fancied — I thought ” 

She made no reply. I am not sure that she even 
noticed me. Even through the dusk I could read 
the dreamy, far-off look on her emaciated face — a 
look of inexpressible satisfaction. It was the first 
time she had played for eleven years, as I afterward 
heard ; no doubt to her, too, music had been a 
saving outlet to emotions which, without it, might 
have come near to kill her. 

Late that night I sat up answering Henry’s 
letter. I could not sleep until I had done so, I 
now suddenly felt. It was a strange sort of night, 
brilliant, and yet wild, with weird effects of illumi- 
nation, the smallest details of which deeply im- 


ONE YEAR 


287 


pressed my excited fancy. Moonlight is generally 
associated in our minds with stillness ; but to-night, 
although the moon was at its full, a wind had risen 
after sunset, which kept closing the clouds over its 
face, thus making intervals that were almost as 
clear as day ’alternate with sudden darkness. The 
path of light traversing the lawn, which I could see 
from my window, had been swallowed into black- 
ness and a dozen times emerged again from the 
shadows. A dull, banging sound in the distance 
told me that a window had been left unfastened 
somewhere in the house; its regularly recurring 
beats ran as a sort of accompaniment to the progress 
of my pen. It was not until I laid it down finally 
that my nerves began to rebel against the irritation. 
Would nobody think of fastening it ? I asked my- 
self. But the house was evidently asleep ; if I 
wanted that window fastened I should have to do it 
myself. Accordingly, with carefully shaded candle, 
I slipped out through Jadwiga’s room, and set out 
on a voyage of discovery. 

Nothing is so deceptive as a loose window on a 
windy night. When you stand still to listen it 
regularly stops banging, and when it begins again 
it is certain to be on the opposite side of the house 
from where you are. I had looked into several 
rooms without discovering anything, when, by too 
abruptly closing a door, I put out my candle. Not 
that that mattered much, for the intermittent moon- 


288 


ONE YEAR 


light would come to my aid. Just then I reached 
the door of the room which was known as ‘‘ the 
Master’s room,” and opened it as I had opened the 
others. As I did so I felt a sensation which I had 
never experienced before — that of my hair moving 
on my head — for there, at the far end of the room, 
with its back turned to me, there stood a white 
figure immovable, a human figure robed in flowing 
draperies. It was just then one of the moonlight 
intervals, which materially added to the ghastliness 
of the impression. Out of doors, among trees and 
grass, moonlight is partly awful and partly enchant- 
ing ; indoors, however, to my mind, it is never 
anything but awful. The silver flood is meant for 
leafy glades, or boldly cut rocks, not for tables and 
chairs, framed by human hands, and unable to bear 
each wholesale idealisation. Admitted into the 
dwelling of man, where only the homely lamp 
should reign, moonbeams are strangers, and bring 
with them I know not what sense of mournfulness 
and desolation. I felt something of this as I 
marked the glare of light on the polished table, the 
harsh reflection on the leg of some chair, or on the 
corner of some picture frame on the wall. 

It was in front of one of these pictures that the 
white figure stood in the middle of a flood of light 
which gave to its garments an element almost of 
transparency. As I entered it turned its head, and 
I found myself looking across the room into Jad- 


ONE YEAR 


289 


wiga’s deadly pale face. But there was something 
else in her face which shocked me more than the 
pallor, a sort of fixity in the painfully wide-open 
eyes, a look of distress, of despair, of perplexity, 
— I do not know how to define it, but a look I had 
never before seen on any human face, and pray to 
God I may never see again. A sudden remorse 
took possession of me at the sight, for having since 
mid-day lived entirely on my own thoughts. 

Jadwiga! ” I exclaimed, “ I thought you were 
in your bed, — what can you be doing here ? ” 

As I drew nearer I saw that the picture before 
which she had been standing, apparently in rapt 
contemplation, was the portrait of her father, 
Hazimir Bielinski. 

She looked at me for so long and so blankly be- 
fore answering that I began to ask myself whether 
she were not walking in her sleep. I had never 
seen her face so white nor her eyes so black before ; 
it was only when I stood close to her that I dis- 
covered the reason of this blackness to be the ex- 
traordinary dilation of the pupils. I touched her 
hand and almost shuddered at the contact, so cold 
was it, but my movement seemed to have aroused 
her from a sort of stupor. 

“ It is nothing,” she said hastily, passing her 
hand across her forehead. “ I could not sleep, — 
I had toothache, so I came to look for some 
drops.” 


290 


ONE YEAR 


But the drops are not here, surely ? ’’ I asked. 

No, — I know y I came in here for something 
else. I had fancy to look at Papa’s picture ; I was 
passing the door, you know.” 

“ A strange moment for looking at it surely. 
Have you not plenty of other opportunities ? But 
you will come to bed now, Jadwiga, will you not ? ” 
I pleaded, and gently took hold of her hand. 

Immediately ! ” she said, turning back to the 
picture ; “ I have still one word to say to him.” 

Her manner began to alarm me vaguely. Jad- 
wiga,” I said, feeling principally the need of forcibly 
removing her thoughts from their present groove, 
I have something to tell you, — something good 
that has happened to myself,” and in a few words 
I gave her the contents of Henry’s letter. I could 
not be sure that she even heard me, for her eyes 
remained fixed on the picture while I spoke, but as 
I paused she said without any especial emotion : 

So you will marry him, I suppose ? ” 

“ Of course I will,” I replied, foolishly hurt at 
this indifference. 

“ I hope you will be happy,” said Jadwiga, turn- 
ing from the picture and beginning to walk toward 
the door. But she was scarcely half-way across 
the room when she turned back again, and, coming 
to me, took my two hands between her cold ones. 

Then at least one of us is to be happy,” she 
said, in almost her old voice. “ Thank God for 


ONE YEAR 


291 


that ! ” and I felt her lips upon my cheek, — they 
were as burning as the fingers were cold. 

One of us ? ” I asked, keeping hold of her 
hands. “ Can we not both be happy yet ? ” 

At the same moment the moonlight went out, 
exactly as my candle had done, so that I could not 
see what there was in her face, but her voice was a 
different one when she spoke. 

I forgot,” she said with an inexpressible weari- 
ness in her tone, “ you are an accomplice ; you too 
would make me have a financial arrangement, — 
and I thought you understood ! ” 

Never mind what I am,” I said, drawing her 
toward the door; ‘‘we can talk of that to-morrow; 
come to bed now.” 

She submitted without another word ; and, grop- 
ing my way along the dark passage, I led her to her 
room, and soon, worn out with emotions, and de- 
spite the loose window which continued banging in 
the distance, was fast asleep myself. 

I feel that I must hurry to the end. Gazing 
back in memory on the day that followed on that 
night, even though five years lie between them and 
now, I find that my nerves are not equal to dwell- 
ing very exhaustively on details. 

I was in the middle of a dream in which Henry 
and I were engaged in fabricating a rabbit-hutch 
out of an empty wine-cask, while Anulka built a 
wall of jam-pots round it, when a sharp, rapping 


292 


ONE YEAR 


sound which did and yet did not belong to the 
dream, seemed to come from the inside of the cask. 
“ Can it be the rabbits ? ” I asked myself, even while 
beginning to come to my senses, — but they 
are not in yet ; ’’ and as I argued thus the raps 
grew louder and more hurried, and I awoke with a 
start to the consciousness that somebody was knock- 
ing at my window. 

It was a thing that had never happened before, 
and in sudden terror I sprung to the ground and 
ran toward the light. The sun was not up yet, 
and the garden was full of mist, the first autumn 
mist of the season. At the window rising out of 
the white vapours, there was a face which I did not 
immediately recognise — old Andrej, with his grey 
hair all tumbled about his startled eyes, and with 
his lips moving, though I could not hear him 
through the close double window. In nervous 
haste I tore it open. 

What is it ? What is it ? ” I asked, already 
infected by his excitement. 

He replied by pointing vaguely toward the vil- 
lage. 

Over there,” he said, breathing hard, for he 
had evidently been running as fast as his old legs 
could carry him ; “ over there ! come quick ! Our 
young lady, — oh Mother of God, our young lady ! ” 

I did not stop to ask another question, for the 
sense of disaster was upon me already. Throwing 


ONE YEAR 


293 


on the clothes I found nearest at hand, and pushing 
my bare feet into slippers, I ran out of the house. 
As I passed through Jadwiga’s room I scarcely even 
looked toward the bed; I knew already that it 
would be empty. 

Andrej was at the gate already, and once assured 
that I was following him, he set off running with- 
out once looking back. 

The village was barely beginning to awake. 
Here and there a door was open and a yawning 
peasant stretched himself on the threshold. The 
basket work palings and the straw-thatched roofs 
loomed bulkily out of the morning fog. I noticed 
it all vaguely as I ran past, and noticed also as a 
grotesquely comical detail that Andrej, although 
he had on his green livery coat, had not taken time 
to put on the trousers to match, his legs being en- 
cased in staringly white under-garments which 
moved before me through the mist, almost like the 
twinkling of two guiding stars. I had not got 
half-way down the village street when I lost one 
of my slippers, and ran on with one foot bare; at 
another time I suppose I could not have borne the 
pain of the stones, but my nerves were at too high 
a tension to let me be aware of anything merely 
physical just now. All this time I had not at- 
tempted to conjecture what our goal was or what 
exactly we should find when we got there. I re- 
member thinking that it was a strange place to look 


294 


ONE YEAR 


for Jadwiga in — out here in the public road, where 
she had not put her foot for months, and it seemed 
to me also, as I kept my eyes fastened on those 
white legs in advance, that the street, stretching 
away into the mist and slowly disclosing one feature 
after another, would never come to an end. Andrej’s 
hut lay in this direction, and I think that, on the 
whole, I expected most to be taken there; but we 
came to the opening of the narrow willow lane I 
knew so well, and passed it, still at a run, and sud- 
denly it flashed upon me that we were going to the 
pond. In that moment I think I knew everything, 
though I only clutched the shawl huddled round 
me a little tighter, and stumbled on with set teeth. 
In another moment figures seemed to grow out of 
the mist — unnaturally tall they looked against the 
sky, for they were grouped on the top of the sloping 
bank. When I had climbed the side panting, An- 
drej was already on his knees beside something 
which lay on the grass. The silent group parted 
to let me pass, and then I saw what during the last 
horrible minutes I had almost been expecting to 
see — Jadwiga in the same white dressing-gown 
which she had worn last night, only that its drenched 
folds clung closely to her limbs, and with her wet 
face turned motionless to the sky. Her hair had 
come undone and wandered in clammy strains, 
shiny as water serpents, over her shoulders and 
bosom, twisting right round one of her arms and 


ONE YEAR 


295 


even her neck; her lips were parted and her half- 
open eyes brimful of water. 

I had almost thrown myself upon her, wildly, 
despairingly, when it occurred to me that there 
might still be hope. 

“ The doctor ! ” I said, angrily shaking the 
shoulder of the loudly wailing Andrej. Have 
you sent for the doctor ? Has anything been 
done ? She must be taken into shelter at once.’’ 

Nothing had been done as I might have known 
had I known Ruthenian peasants better. A leader 
is the first thing they need in anything like an 
emergency, and this instinct it probably was which 
had sent the distracted Andrej straight to my win- 
dow. But although they cannot command they 
know how to obey. Within five minutes of my 
appearance on the scene a man on horseback was 
on his way to Zloczek, and Jadwiga transported to 
Andrej’s hut close by, and lying on his wife’s bed, 
whence the water from her hair and clothes dripped 
and dripped on to the rude floor. Then began the 
last forlorn struggle — the warming of blankets, the 
trickling of wbdki between her closed teeth, also 
the burning of herbs before her face, recommended 
by one of the village cronies. Each newcomer 
had a remedy of his own, of which he positively 
asserted that it must bring revival. 

Let me not live through those hours again — I 
scarcely know even now if, indeed, they were hours 


296 


ONE YEAR 


or only minutes — enough to say that she did not 
revive, and that when the morning sun, struggling 
through the vapours, poured in at the little square 
window I knew, without any doctor to tell me so, 
that it was time to close those half-lifted lids. 


CHAPTER XX 


The next thing I remember is walking back 
again through the village, slowly this time, and 
with a pair of shoes belonging to Andrej’s wife on 
my feet. In front of us, stretched on a mattress 
they carried Jadwiga, and from out of every hut 
we passed some man or woman came to join us. 
It was an ever-increasing but silent procession that 
escorted Jadwiga back to the home which she had 
left all alone before daylight. The catastrophe 
was such as to impress even the rustic imagina- 
tion ; solitary sighs were heard from the men, an 
occasional sob from a woman, a muttering of prayer 
from both sexes, but no loud note of lamentation 
disturbed the solemnity of that last escort. Ru- 
thenian peasants have a sense of fitness which some 
other nations lack, and I believe that in their 
humble way they had loved her — no one could es- 
cape loving her — and had felt a common pride in 
‘‘ our young lady’s ” beauty. 

On the verandah, supported by Marya, Madame 
Bielinska stood, already informed of what we were 
bringing, her scanty grey hair slipping from under 
the night-cap she had forgotten to remove, her face 
strangely yellow and furrowed in the full morning 
light. She did not speak as the bearers mounted 
297 


298 


ONE YEAR 


the steps, but her arms moved helplessly up and 
down, forward, and then down again, and these 
silent gestures said more than any words could 
have done; but I had no thought for her just then, 
and no pity either. Anulka was not visible; I 
learnt since that, as we approached the house, she 
had been carried off the verandah in convulsions. 

The next hours are blurred in my memory. 
Toward evening I find myself again standing in 
the big drawing-room, transformed already into a 
sort of mortuary chapel, and beside the couch on 
which Jadwiga had been laid, dressed in white, as 
is the custom of the country for young girls, and 
with a bridal veil flowing over her clasped hands 
and long, black hair. They had managed to get 
the hair dry by some means or other, and, instead 
of water snakes, it now resembled carefully sorted 
silken strains. The garden had been plundered of 
its asters and hollyhocks, which filled every recep- 
tacle that could be made to hold a flower, and tall 
wax candles burnt on each side of her. 

On the floor at the foot of the bier there cowed 
something which might have been a small heap of 
black clothes. I went up and laid my hand upon 
it mercilessly. 

Does it hurt enough now ? ” I asked, with I 
know not what feeling of savage satisfaction in the 
midst of my own pain — and I pointed to the form 
on the couch. 


ONE YEAR 


299 


The unhappy mother lifted her face to me, the 
scared, quivering face of a broken woman. 

It does,” she said, with shaking lips. “ Surely 
it will be paid for now ! ” And right through the 
depth of her suffering there pierced that gleam al- 
most of fanaticism which I had seen so often 
within the last few months. I knew then that she 
would not die of her grief, since she would not be 
without consolation. Jadwiga would be to her not 
only a lost child, but also a victim of atonement 
for the past. 

Two days later I again traversed the village, 
sitting in a carriage this time beside my deeply 
veiled employer, whose rigid features were scarcely 
visible through the density of the black crape. We 
had done what we could to dissuade her from 
going, but she was bent on drinking her chalice to 
its dregs. The little Greek church, all of wood, 
and with three dark brown minarets cut clear 
against the wide sky, lay separate from the village, 
out on the plain, in the midst of its still leafy cem- 
etery, which, with the high enclosing paling, 
formed a sort of island in the midst of the flat 
fields. There it was that the Bielinski family, al- 
though belonging, like the Poles, to the Roman 
Catholic Church, had its burying-place, and to the 
Ruthenian village priest it was that the Catholic 


300 


ONE YEAR 


cure of Zloczek had transferred his powers for the 
occasion. 

I had never entered one of those so naively gor- 
geous village churches without deep emotion, and 
it will be well believed that on this occasion I was 
less than ever in a position to criticise the rude yet 
impressive details of my surroundings. The tat- 
tered banners, the daubed pictures, the crazy can- 
dlesticks, the bright but not over-clean altar-cloths, 
and the strings of glass beads — for a village church in 
East Galicia is as full of miscellaneous objects as a 
curiosity box of curiosities — were to me to-day 
nothing but the background to Jadwiga’s coffin, 
and all this truly oriental profusion of gilding and 
of colour, over v/hich the dulness of time had 
mercifully passed, seemed there only to do her hon- 
our. As I knelt there, clutching a monstrous can- 
dle of brown bees-wax which it took both my hands 
to support, and with the thick scent of incense in 
my nostrils, I felt as though I were alone with her, 
as I had been on the day when she had first taken 
me to this church and explained to me the sym- 
bolic pictures on the wall. There were some she 
could not understand, she said — and now, where 
was she \ and was there anything more which she 
could not understand ? Surely not. 

I think the whole village must have been in the 
church ; from my place beside the altar and through 
the gilded gates flung back upon their hinges I 


ONE YEAR 


301 


could see the rude, furrowed faces turned motionless 
toward the priest at the altar, and only the lips 
moving. All the neighbours were there too, I be- 
lieve j in the more civilised group straight opposite 
I caught a sight of many faces which had grown 
familiar within the past year, but which I was prob- 
ably looking on for the last time. 

I did not think that Madame Bielinska would 
succeed in reaching the grave, but she did. It was 
not until the priest had departed and the earth had 
begun to be filled in that she seemed to require the 
support of Marya’s arm, who gently led her back 
toward the entrance. I did not follow immedi- 
ately j I had a fancy to see the last earth-clod laid 
on. One by one the mourners threaded their way 
back between the green mounds, for no distinct 
path led to the enclosed space in the corner of the 
cemetery, and presently I found myself alone with 
the sexton. 

Half an hour later I too was threading my way 
back. The church door still stood open, and I 
turned that way, instead of toward the gate. A 
few minutes more alone in that temple of ignorant 
but real piety might help to lay a little of the tu- 
mult in my heart. A large porch with benches run- 
ning round it is an almost invariable feature of 
these churches ; as I was traversing this one I per- 
ceived a man sitting on the bench with his elbows 
on his knees and his face in his hands. At the 


302 


ONE YEAR 


sound of my step on the hollow, wooden floor he 
looked up, and I saw a face that was at the same 
time both familiar and strange. I had not so much 
as given a thought to Malewicz since the catas- 
trophe, and the sight of him now thus startled me 
out of my own pain, by reminding me that there 
was a sorrow here even greater than mine — no, it 
was more than a sorrow, it was a despair. When 
I had seen him three days ago he had still been a 
young man, despite everything, but the stubby 
beard which was now sprouting about his chin and 
cheeks was already the beard of an old man. I 
stood looking at him, wondering if he would 
speak ; he did so only after a long minute. 

“ Tell me,” he said, hesitatingly and unevenly, 
plunging his eyes into mine as though to reach the 
truth, tell me ; why is it ? Is it because she 
hated me that she did it ? ” 

He had not thought of rising. I sat down be- 
side him and, in the depth of my compassion, laid 
my hand upon his. 

“ No,” I answered, “ it is not that. If she had 
hated you her path might have been thorny but it 
would have been clear. It was not loss of fortune 
that she was afraid of. If you had been nothing 
at all to her she would only have needed to hand 
over to you your money and to retire with her 
mother into obscurity — and you know that she was 
strong enough for that.” 


ONE YEAR 


303 


His eyes fiercely asked for more, although his 
lips did not move. 

I think, on the contrary, that it Avas exactly 
her doubts as to her own feelings which drove her 
to the step. I am quite certain that she was begin- 
ning to foresee the possibility of returning your af- 
fection — she almost acknowledged as much to me 
— but just as she had come to foresee it you were 
unmasked as the man on whose generosity the 
family had been practically living for the last dozen 
years. To some spirits such generosity is unbear- 
able and awakes resentment against the giver rather 
than gratitude. Jadwiga was of those spirits. 
Two days before her death she said to me : — ‘ It is 
dreadful to owe so much to a person and not to be 
able to pay him back ’ — and at that moment she 
did not yet know the whole of her debt. She 
could not pay you back in the way you wanted to 
be paid without being sure that she loved you, and 
she never could be sure now, as that poor half 
crazy mother of hers will have poured into her 
ears on that last unhappy day — the world, for one, 
as her mother will have told her, would never be 
convinced that she had not taken you merely in 
order not to have to part with the money. On the 
one side there was the ignominy of the position, on 
the other the pang of renouncing the hope new- 
born within her — the choice was impossible, or it 
seemed to her impossible at the first glimpse ; she 


304 


ONE YEAR 


had not the patience to wait and let her emotions 
calm — she always was inclined to do things ‘ sud- 
denly/ as she herself called it, and, therefore, she 
preferred to cut the knot of perplexity by doing 
what her father did. Oh, it is not hard to under- 
stand, I think. You must remember that what she 
has gone through this summer would be enough to 
profoundly shake any nervous system.’’ 

‘‘Then it was my love that killed her,” said 
Malewicz, with a smile that frightened me, “ and 
you think I can go on living ? ” 

“ Hush ! ” I said, pressing my hand on his. 
“ Not a word of that. I, too, have been tempted 
to brand myself a murderess, and to wonder what 
would have been if I had kept by her side that last 
day, but it is all empty and useless. We have both 
loved her and we have both failed to save her. Let 
it be enough that we are sure of our intentions; 
let us not look back too intently, for madness 
might very likely be found to lie in that direction.” 

He snatched his hand from mine and rose from 
the bench. 

“ Oh, the English ! ” he said with a bitter laugh, 
“ the English ! What a nation of common sense ! ” 
And, without taking leave of me, he descended the 
wooden steps and disappeared round the shoulder 
of the church. That was the last I saw of Krys- 
ztof Malewicz. 

Not that I left the country immediately. De- 


ONE YEAR 


305 


spite Henry’s urgent summons it seemed to me that 
to abandon Madame Bielinska at this moment 
would scarcely have been Christianlike. Anulka, 
too, in her desolation clung to me in a way she had 
never clung before, and I felt as though her little 
thin fingers were forcibly keeping me back on 
Polish soil. It was not until all the preliminaries 
for the handing over of the estate to Malewicz had 
been completed that I thought of making up my 
parcels. All his efforts to effect a compromise had 
been shattered on Madame Bielinska’s immovable 
resolve. Even the loan of the house, which obvi- 
ously he did not require, she indignantly refused. 
No doubt she hated the place too intensely by this 
time to go on living there. 

The eve of my departure from Ludniki was also 
almost the eve of the Bielinskis’ farewell to their 
ancient home. On that last afternoon I went once 
more to the cemetery. For want of flowers — for 
by this time autumn was far advanced — I had 
made a wreath of coloured leaves — just the sort of 
wreath Jadwiga had worn on her head when I met 
her for the first time in the park, scarcely more 
than a year ago. It was a grey, windy day, and as 
I stood beside the earth heap, that was marked as 
yet by no monument, a curious feeling of rebellion 
grew out of my sadness. I was going home to 
love and happiness. Fate had treated me kindly 
indeed, and yet I could not forgive her for her 


3o6 


ONE YEAR 


cruelty to the victim who slept here. Was there 
not something almost against nature in the thought 
that I, the elder and plainer woman, should have 
grasped that crown of life which had been refused 
to her, that my sun of happiness should be dawning 
just as hers had gone down forever? 

While I stood thus a gust came sweeping over 
the green mounds, bringing with it a shower of 
leaves. As I watched them chasing each other 
round the railed-ofF enclosure, a strain of melody, 
to which I could not immediately give a name, be- 
gan to work in my brain. Those mad leaves 
seemed to be moving to some familiar measure. 
Presently I had got it : the perplexing finale to 
Chopin’s funeral march. But now, with Jadwiga’s 
own words coming back to my memory, it per- 
plexed me no longer. Yes, there they were, the 
yellow and red ones, the speckled and the striped 
ones, gay as harlequins and lively as imps — those 
that looked as though they had been dipped in 
blood, and the pale ones with the black spots, 
which to Henry and me had always appeared like 
slices of current cake — there they were, hopping in 
and out of the railing, giddily whirling upon the 
new-made grave. Surely it must have been at such 
a season and on such a spot that the idea of that 
last bewildering passage had crept into the Polish 
master’s imagination. 

:)( 9|< :|c 


ONE YEAR 


307 


That night as I lay awake in bed I heard the 
outer door open, and through the empty room 
which had been Jadwiga’s there came a pattering 
of bare feet. In another minute invisible hands 
were groping about me, and Anulka’s voice im- 
plored : — 

I could not sleep over there, so far from you. 
Let me in, please, oh, please ! I will lie so still ! ’’ 

With the deftness of a little snake she slipped in 
under the cover, and I could feel the chill of her 
little cold feet against mine. 

‘‘ There is one thing you must tell me before 
you go,” she whispered as I took her into ,my 
arms; “what am I to do to be like Jadwiga? I 
should like people to be happy when I am there, 
as they were with her, and unhappy when I die, as 
they are unhappy about her. After all it is nicer 
when people like you ; tell me, did they only like 
her because she was beautiful ? because then I 
should have no chance.” 

I was too astonished to answer immediately ; 
the question was so unlike the Anulka I had known 
till now. 

“ No,” I said at last, “ they did not like her only 
because she was beautiful, but also because her 
heart was so full of kindness that it overflowed. 
God forbid that you should be as Jadwiga was in 
everything, for that would probably mean to suffer 
as much as she suffered, but if you could get her 


3o8 


ONE YEAR 


kind heart without her impulsive temper you 
would certainly be loved and perhaps you would 
even be happy.” 

We talked for a little longer in the dark, and 
when at last she fell asleep in my arms I prayed to 
God that the shock of the catastrophe might prove 
to have been the convulsion needed for the awak- 
ening of the soul. 

Four days later I landed in England, and from 
the moment that I caught sight of Henry’s face 
among the waiters on the pier I began to live my 
own life again. 

That was five years ago, and sometimes I am 
half persuaded that the events of my one year of 
exile have no more substance than that well-known 
stuff of which dreams are made, so badly do they 
fit into my present placid, and — let me say it boldly 
— humdrum existence. Have I ever really seen a 
church with three minarets, or a meadow dotted 
with storks ? I could almost doubt it, but for the 
sharp state at my heart when I think of these 
things. Besides, there is the parcel of letters 
which Agnes has given back to me, and which can- 
not be explained away, and occasionally, though at 
more and more rare intervals, there is a shred of 
news which reaches me from over there. Madame 
Bielinska is living in lodgings in Limberg with 
Anulka, who is being educated for a governess. I 
wonder what sort of a one she will make, by the 


ONE YEAR 


309 


bye ? Malewicz has, after all, gone on living ; he 
is unmarried, but I do not think it impossible that 
he may marry yet, not to please himself, but his 
mother, to whom he will always feel that he owes 
a reparation. As for Wladimir, I have heard that 
on his return from his Eastern voyage he was dis- 
covered one day on his knees and in tears on Jad- 
wiga’s grave, sobbing out : How she must have 
loved me ! ” No doubt he will die persuaded that 
Jadwiga took her life because she could not live 
without him. Meanwhile he has found some one 
to dry his tears for him — no other than the elder 
of the two giggling sisters who had squeezed so 
many jokes out of the semi-culinary Christmas 
party, and whose father is one of the notabilities 
of the neighbourhood. 

I am as happy as the love of husband and child 
can make me, and yet I have a place in my heart 
which belongs to neither husband nor child. In 
some moments — such, for instance as when some 
one asks me why I have called my little girl by 
such a strange out-landish name as Jadwiga — it is 
to that place I retire — alone with my memories. 


THE END 



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